The Galactic Shockball Championship of Year 23
by LPK9
Summary: The Galactic Shockball Championship Game, one of the premier sporting events in the galaxy, proves even more exciting than usual when Luke Skywalker shows up and accidentally wreaks havoc. AU after Han Solo's rescue from Jabba. My first attempt at a crack fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

_The Death Star 2_

 _In orbit around Endor_

 _Main docking bay_

"And now I sense you wish to continue your search for young Skywalker," Emperor Palpatine said gravely, with a slight glance at his much taller apprentice.

"Yes, my master," Vader responded in a soft rumble.

"Patience, my friend. In time, he will seek you out. And when he does, you must bring him before me. He has grown strong. Only together can we turn him to the Dark Side of the Force."

"Yes, my Master."

"Everything is proceeding as I have foreseen."

The Emperor let loose with one of his patented evil laughs, and Vader used the Force to decrease his auditory inputs slightly.

That laugh had been annoying 20 years ago and now it grated on every last one of Darth Vader's remaining nerves. Nevertheless, he kept a close eye on his Master, prepared to obey whatever command he might give.

To his relief, as they reached the exit doors of the main docking bay, a man approached and fell to his knees before the Ruler of the Known Universe. Vader stopped and waited as his Master and the Unknown conversed, even as the younger Sith allowed his mind to slip into more pleasant places.

An image formed in his mind's eye, of himself on the Galactic Throne, with his son standing behind him. His son, strong, brave, courageous, determined. Stubborn. Short. Like his mother.

A smile, which he would never have admitted to being slightly beatific, crossed Vader's face.

Only to be rudely wiped away.

"And Lord Vader will provide you with every possible support, won't you, my friend?" Palpatine said, turning toward him, displaying an unpleasant sight of yellowed and decayed teeth.

Vader managed to pull a few vague phrases out of his short term memory. Shockball tournament. Celebration party.

"As you wish, my master," he intoned solemnly, even as his left foot twitched irritably. With a son to find, and a galaxy to conquer, he was going to spend valuable time and energy and resources on a party for a sporting event?

Apparently so.

/-

 _Main crew area_

 _The Millennium Falcon_

 _In orbit around Sullust_

 _1 day later_

"This is completely ridiculous," Luke Skywalker groused, then promptly felt ashamed.

Master Yoda had declared him a Jedi Knight only days ago. Surely a true Jedi wouldn't whine, would he?

Han Solo was leaning back on a med chair with his eyes closed, but these words made him sit up indignantly.

"Let me get this straight, Kid," he said in a menacing tone, "You are complaining about this mission? You don't wanna do it? I'll go, gladly."

"No, you won't," Leia Organa responded in a voice which brooked no argument.

Both men looked at her, Luke with a slight smile, Han with his trademark expression of wounded perplexity.

"It sounds like a cakewalk, Leia ..." Solo began, only to be cut off firmly.

"Cakewalk or not, you aren't going, Han. You're only 10 days out of carbonite and you still aren't 100%. The last thing you need is to traipse off to a shockball tournament to drink crummy Corellian whiskey and eat too much nerf sausage. You don't want to mess with your digestion at this sensitive point in your recovery."

Han Solo rolled to his feet and swaggered dramatically over to Leia, who tilted her head up towards him.

"Leia, I love messing with my digestion. Early and often."

"Not on my watch," she growled back, her eyes flashing.

Luke, though amused, fought to get the conversation back on topic.

"If it's a cakewalk, and it does sound like an easy mission, why do I have to do it?"

(Oops, that was still definitely whiny.)

Leia turned away from her glaring contest with Solo and bestowed a loving smile on her newly discovered twin.

"Amazing, that _,_ " Luke thought, with a rush of wonder. The confirmation from Master Yoda that Darth Vader was his father had been devastating but expected. But Obi-Wan Kenobi's revelation that the Princess of Alderaan, his precious friend Leia Organa, was his twin sister had been the best news of his entire lifetime.

Leia was equally pleased to claim him as a brother, though her longstanding loathing for the Dark Lord of the Sith had only flamed higher at the revelation of her parentage.

She'd have to work on that, but for now Luke was wise enough to realize that she just needed to cogitate on it for a season.

"So, this mission is actually a bit tricky," Leia explained gravely.

"It's just a hand off of a data code cylinder, isn't it?" Luke demanded.

She nodded, "Yes, but we can't beam the information in because the Empire is carefully monitoring transmissions, and our Rebel contact is one of the very few people who can safely mingle at the shockball tournament and then carry the cylinder into the high security prison on Coronet. Our sentient inside the prison can't go out safely as he's being monitored, though we don't think he is suspected of being a Rebel. It's just standard protocol for guards and technical staff in the prison."

"Still, a handoff?" Luke demanded, "I mean, I don't want to brag but ..."  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah I know, you blew up the Death Star and you're the last of the Jedi ... got it. But that means you'll be warned by the Force if something goes down unexpectedly. It should be a good place for the exchange with so many people wandering around, but Imperials could also sneak up on you if they are tipped off. There are going to be thousands of people there ..."

"Thousands?" Han interrupted, "Thousands? More like 100,000 people. This is the shockball game of the year!"

"Even though the Imperial Thrones will win, like they have the last 14 years?" Luke asked wearily.

Han's face drooped slightly. "Yeah. I mean, you're right. But usually they don't cheat 'til the second half of the game. And last year, the Caridan team took out three of the Thrones toward the end. That was pretty good, and I'm thinking the Corellian Brothers will do even better. Maybe take out five or six?"

Luke sighed, "Whatever. Shockball doesn't really interest me, you know. Now a good swoop race ..."

"Yeah, swoop races are awesome, Luke. I'm not arguing that. But what could be more exciting than a team sport where the goal is to knock every member of the opposite team unconscious? That's true excitement, better than any swoop race!"

"It's barbaric," Leia said coldly. "I can't understand why anyone would enjoy it. On Alderaan, it was expressly forbidden because of our views on violence ..."

Han interrupted by stepping forward and planting a firm and lengthy kiss on Leia's lips, one which she returned with fervor.

"So I guess this meeting is over?" Luke inquired, rising to his feet.

The two ignored him as they broke contact and began whispering sweet nothings at one another.

Luke grinned and walked toward the exit, only to stop when Han called after him.

"Hey, Luke?"

The young Jedi lifted an inquiring eyebrow.

"What do you think that black behemoth of a father of yours would think if I called him up and asked for his daughter's hand in marriage?"

Luke's eyes widened with Leia's, and then he chuckled reluctantly, "I'd pay good money to see his reaction, Han, I'll say that – if he didn't strangle you across the parsecs. But remember, Leia's a secret."

"I know, Kid, just giving you a hard time."

"It's fine with me if he finds out," Leia said coldly. "It might be good for him to realize that not one but two children of his think he's a despicable tyrant."

Luke opened his mouth, then shut it.

He didn't dare tell Leia of his own very conflicted feelings about Darth Vader, previously Anakin Skywalker.

Luke hated him, yes, he did, for all he had done. For torturing Leia, and Han. For taking his hand. But at some level ...

At some level, Luke Skywalker loved his father.

/-

 _The Death Star_

 _In orbit around Endor_

 _4 days later_

"This is ridiculous," Darth Vader said out loud.

Coordinator Tontin drooped in clear distress, and tears actually formed in his eyes.

"You believe ... that the Emperor will be displeased?"

Vader waited two cycles of his respirator.

"No, you misunderstand, Coordinator," he said finally, forcing his voice to remain calm. "You have clearly done an excellent job. I am merely commenting on your decision to call me here, when I have many more vitally important tasks to fulfill."

The Coordinator's face took on the expression of a startled ferbil, "My Lord! The Galactic Shockball Championship is the premier sporting event of the year! And this year will be the 15th time in a row that the Emperor's Thrones will win the championship! This truly will be the celebration of the decade and it is my deepest desire that my liege will be pleased. I merely wish to know whether you think this room will meet his approval."

Vader allowed himself a jaded stare around the large banquet hall. It was a riot of blacks, grays, silvers, and whites, the colors of the Imperial Thrones shockball team. He'd already cast a dreary eye over the menu, which was of course composed of food he couldn't eat.

Ridiculous.

"The Emperor will be delighted," he forced himself to say.

Coordinator Tontin smiled with pleasure, "Thank you, my Lord."

"And now I must see to other vital duties," the Sith said, firmly turning on his heel.

Outside the banquet chamber, he heaved a soft sigh of relief. Seven more days before the championship game, and this ridiculously ornate party. He hoped he would not be required to attend.

And then he'd have a full year before he had to deal with shockball madness.

Perhaps in a year, Luke would be at his side, and his Master slain.

With that happy thought, Darth Vader strode toward his meditation chamber. A passing stormtrooper jerked in sudden surprise as he passed, and Vader hesitated briefly. He was used to terror, but not surprise.

And then he realized he was humming something. Humming. A song. A song from Naboo. One of Padme's favorites, about the ocean...

/-

 _The Emperor's Throne Room_

 _The Death Star 2_

 _In orbit around Endor_

 _1 day later_

"I have decided, my apprentice, to send you to Corellia for the championship shockball game," the Emperor said, steepling his hands together.

Darth Vader felt his jaw drop open.

"What?" he asked, then bowed his head still more, "I'm sorry, my Master, I didn't quite hear that."

"Are your auditory sensors malfunctioning, Lord Vader?" the elderly Sith demanded, a scowl forming on his face. "You will proceed to Corellia for the championship game, and present the Chromium Cup to the Thrones after their victory. It will truly be a tremendous moment as the Imperial Thrones win their 15th championship ..."

"In a row," Vader finished. "Yes, my master. I am concerned, however, that the Death Star requires my attention to keep the necessary schedule of operations."

The Emperor waved a careless hand, "I will deal with any issues personally, Lord Vader. It will be good for you to get away for a while. Think of it as ... as a vacation."

Many words filled Darth Vader's mind, none of them appropriate.

"Yes, my master."

 _Author Note: So this will not be long. Maybe 5 or 6 chapters?_


	2. Chapter 2

_The_ Angel Wasp _(standard passenger vessel)_

 _En route to Corellia from Kuat_

 _5 days later_

"That was quite a move, wasn't it?" the jocular red-headed man said cheerfully and loudly, "He whipped the ball like he was going to hit Jobant, then turned at the last moment and took out the center Krimp. After that, it was all over but the crying for the Antarian Weevels. Great game."

"Ayyyy, it was all of that, laddy" his companion said even more loudly, his voice obviously fueled by excessive alcohol consumption, "But let me tell you about one of the strangest shockball games I've ever seen. I was but a youth of 14 at the time ..."

Luke Skywalker leaned back against his seat and tried to shut out the noise. The _Angel Wasp_ was filled with excited passengers on their way to the Galactic Shockball Championship game, and the closer they got to Corellia, the drunker and noisier they got.

One benefit of the boisterousness was that no one paid the slightest attention to him. A quiet Force suggestion had allowed him to bypass the security protocol when he had boarded this ship, so he had his lightsaber and other illegal paraphernalia. He was dressed in the dark green and blue colors of the Corellian Brothers shockball team, as were most of the passengers on this vessel. There were a few Imperial Crowns' fans as well, but thus far the interactions, while vehement and discordant, had remained physically civil. Indeed, even the most bitter argument often ended in laughs and cheerful joshing.

It was charming in its own way, Luke supposed. In a galaxy torn apart by war and slavery and struggle, perhaps there was something inherently noble about a group of strangers and friends and fans randomly gathered together to talk, and argue, shockball.

Plus he had learned more about the game. Teams were composed of eight members each, and none could leave the field during the game play. Games had two halves. Each half ended after 30 minutes or after all the players on one side had been shocked unconscious by the ball, which packed a serious electrical punch sufficient to knock out a player. Once a player was knocked out, he was no longer allowed to play for the half. The players handled the ball with special insulated mitts, and lofted it about with scoops, with the intent being to strike a player in an unguarded area of the body to knock him unconscious. Points were awarded to the team which had knocked out the most players at the end of each half, with the points added together at the end of the game. The winner, obviously, was the team with the most points. In the event a tie, there was an overtime in which the first team to knock out an opposing player was declared the winner.

There were other complicated details but that was enough for Luke. It was a loud and crazy game, a violent game, and many older shockball players were distinctly weird after years of being shocked unconscious repeatedly. But it was interesting.

Luke leaned back with a slight smile, closed his eyes, and managed to drift off to sleep.

/

 _Darth Vader's personal shuttle_

 _In hyperspace_

 _En route to Corellia_

Darth Vader sat in his meditation chamber, his helmet off, his eyes closed, as he reached out for the soothing dark melodies of the Force.

He was tired, he admitted to himself. He had been pushing himself very hard the last few weeks, struggling to force the Death Star back onto his Master's arguably unreasonable schedule.

And as usual, he had succeeded. He usually did succeed, and when he failed, the Emperor made sure he regretted it.

Vader sighed, deeply. For a long moment, he focused on his shielding. Even here, in hyperspace, far from his Master, he needed to keep his thoughts hidden.

But no, his shields were impregnable, like durasteel walls. He allowed his thoughts to blossom to fruition.

Emperor Palpatine was looking terrible.

Sidious had not looked great for literally decades, ever since he and Mace Windu had gone toe to toe, lightsaber to lightsaber, with a hearty mix of Force lightning mixed in. Palpatine had looked quite pleasant, even fatherly, before that interaction. Afterwards, he was a wrinkled mess.

But (and here, again, Vader checked his shields) the last few years it looked to his admittedly prejudiced eyes like Palpatine's deterioration was accelerating. Perhaps it was all for show, an attempt to take Vader off guard?

Perhaps.

But perhaps not. The man was quite old, though Vader didn't know exactly _how_ old. He had not been a young eopie even in his days as the Chancellor of the old Republic, and two decades had passed since then.

And Sidious hadn't lived a very healthy life. His addiction to shim-bay crispa wasn't doing any favors for the elder Sith Lord's teeth, which looked frankly ghastly. And he seemed to be walking more slowly, and using the cane more often. Perhaps Darth Sidious was deteriorating to the point that he would just keel over dead some day?

That would be a good day.

A brief glance at his own reflection caused Darth Vader's spirits to plunge. It wasn't like he was healthier than his master. Yes, with the armor and the suit and the heavy mask, he looked intimidating. He did intimidating very well. But he was a wreck inside, no doubt about it. Serious burns, messed up heart, messed up lungs, damaged organs. It really was a miracle (not a very nice one) that he was alive at all.

With a weary scowl, Vader turned his thoughts to the one being in the galaxy who had the potential to bring him satisfaction, and joy, and fulfillment.

His son, Luke.

Who was, as usual, making himself very scarce. It was a huge galaxy, yes. But Vader had a two billion credit bounty on the boy and still he evaded the bounty hunters and the Imperial Security Bureau and everyone in between.

Vader thought briefly of the disaster on Bespin, before firmly turning his thoughts away. It hadn't gone well, obviously. Luke was no doubt very irritated with him for chopping off the boy's hand. He hadn't meant to, of course, regretted it quite bitterly, but the situation had gotten out of hand – so to speak – and he had very little practice controlling temper in the last two decades. The blow which had injured his son had been made while in the white heat of rage after Luke had successfully struck him in the shoulder. And then the child had stubbornly refused to listen to reason and had leaped into the abyss to escape!

(Trust Padme's son to throw a thermal detonator into Vader's carefully laid out plans.)

But all was not lost. In time they would be reunited and Vader would show him the truth, show him the power of the Dark Side. Together, Vader and his Master would turn the young Jedi and then Sidious would fall and Vader, and Skywalker, would rise.

He was tired. He should sleep now in preparation for the no doubt remarkably irritating shockball tournament and ceremony coming up the next day.

Slumber came easily tonight, a rare blessing. And just as he slipped into sleep, Darth Vader had a brief vision, full of light and sound and the screams of a crowd and Luke, his green (green?) lightsaber held high ...

And then the mind of Darth Vader grew quiet.

/-

 _Coronet_

 _Capitol of Corellia_

 _1 day later_

Luke Skywalker pulled his hood slightly forward and cheerfully flowed with the crowd toward one of the main entrances of the Corellian Brother's Shockball Stadium. He had a ticket, of course, in case he was challenged inside, and the data code cylinder with requisite information, plus a small beacon which would help his contact find him in the gargantuan crowd.

The crowd slowed as it approached one of the many gates, and Luke began sidling slowly to his right. After many minutes of careful and gentle nudging and drifting, he was able to slip into one of the outer refreshers. From there, it was a remarkably simple task to enter a stall, which had walls which reached to the ceiling, push open the ceiling tiles with the Force, slip through into the ceilings and walls, proceed into an inner refresher, drop down, and exit.

And just like that, Luke was in the stadium, having bypassed security while retaining his lightsaber, his code cylinder, and the beacon.

Within the stadium, the excitement was ramping up despite the obvious reality that Palpatine's team would win. It always did. Palpatine made sure that the best players were hired, or coerced, onto his team. If another team dared to do too well, there were Imperial agents available to help players have mysterious "accidents", even during play if needed.

But yes, in spite of that gloomy reality, there was a very festive atmosphere. The crowds were flowing in, the vendors were hollering their wares, the smell of barbecued nerf meat filled the air, the sun was shining, the sky was blue ...

Leia had said as he left (still mildly protesting) that he needed a vacation. And as usual, she was right. This mission was proving quite relaxing, and he was enjoying himself.

It was going to be a great day.


	3. Chapter 3

_The Corellian Brothers Shockball Stadium_

 _Coronet_

 _Corellia_

"And the players are running out onto the field now!" Lash Unton said enthusiastically, his eyes focused on the holocam, "This will be a truly great game between the Imperial Thrones, the winners of the last 14 championships, and the local Corellian Brothers. It truly is an honor for Coronet to be the hosting city for this, the premier sporting event of the year."

/-

 _The Millennium Falcon_

"Please tell me we aren't eating nerf meat?!" Leia demanded, dropping onto a couch next to Solo, who was gazing with interest at the holoterminal on the wall.

"Nope, no nerf meat, Leia. Chewie has prepared quite the spread of traditional Corellian fare, though. Corellian buckwheat noodles, stewfruit, endwa, that kind of thing. And for dessert, cream puffs!"

Leia grinned, "Sounds good. So the game is just about to start?"

"Yeah. They have panned the crowd a few times but I haven't seen any sign of Luke. But there are 85,000 in attendance so that's no surprise."

Leia jerked slightly, "I sincerely hope not! He has a two billion credit bounty and the last thing we need is some second rate bounty hunter spotting him."

Han, seeing that she was sincerely ruffled, put a gentle arm around her, "Don't worry, Leia. He'll be fine. He really blends in well. He's remarkably ordinary looking, all things considered."

Leia's eyes were anxious, "You really think so?"

"Yeah, I do. I mean, good looking, but ordinary. And short. Given how tall your old man is, it's surprising you and he are short."

Leia looked cross at the reminder of Vader, "I suspect we took after our unknown mother in that respect, and hopefully in most other ways as well. I presume she wasn't a homicidal maniac."

"Probably not. How many homicidal maniacs are you liable to have as a parent?" he asked playfully.

"One is plenty."

/

 _Darth Vader's shuttle_

 _In hyperspace_

 _Closing in on Corellia_

Vader had timed his arrival quite precisely. His Master had ordered him to present the Chromium Cup to the Imperial Thrones. Therefore, he didn't need to be there for the entire game, just the end. There was a landing platform directly connected to the stadium for very important persons. He was an Extremely Important Person, and trusted that a premium spot would be available for his shuttle.

(If not, people would die. He was in a lousy mood.)

So his brilliant plan was to come out of hyperspace, mosey in a leisurely way to the surface, and stride out menacingly onto the field in time to present the Cup to the captain of the Imperial Thrones. He trusted that his forbidding mien would prevent anyone from trying to actually talk to him. He would then march back to his shuttle, lift off, and head back to the Death Star.

These well laid plans came to a screeching halt the moment his shuttle dropped out of hyperspace. With a startling rush which made his head swim, the Force presence of his son crashed into his consciousness.

Luke. Was. Here.

On Corellia.

For a startled moment he froze like a pole-axed shaak.

The next moment, he frantically threw up his shielding to prevent Luke from sensing him. The boy had not been well trained at Bespin but his Master claimed Luke had grown strong. It was imperative that Luke be unaware of his presence for as long as possible.

His mind began running a light year a minute. Where was Luke? What could he do to find him? Should he cordon off the planet? Call in legions of Stormtroopers from the garrisons of the other planets circling the star Corel?

A quick glance at the available data on Corellia nixed that idea. It was a massively populated world, with all too many places for one sneaky youth to hide for an indefinite amount of time. And once the starships began congregating, once the troops began moving in, Luke _would_ know.

Without any idea of why Luke was here (no doubt he had been tasked with some nefarious and dangerous Rebel mission), Vader had a higher chance of finding a specific grain of sand on Tatooine than his wily and slippery son.

But then the brief vision from last night reverberated in his mind. Luke was in … in a stadium! With a roaring crowd! With a green lightsaber!

Luke was at the Championship Shockball game!

/-

 _The Corellian Brothers Shockball Stadium_

 _Coronet_

 _Corellia_

Luke leaned back in his seat with a smile. He was, he admitted to himself, having a fantastic time.

The first half was over, and the Imperial Thrones were up 8 to 7. The Thrones had managed to knock out all of the Brothers' players at the 25 minute 46 second mark of the first half, but the Brothers' players had knocked out seven Thrones before they all went down.

So it was a close game. The crowd was excited and engaged, and Luke was pleasantly full from a variety of tasty snacks. He had managed to buy a dweezel stick from a vendor! It had been his very favorite Tatooine dessert as a child.

The shockball players had retired to their various preparation rooms, no doubt to recover from being shocked and to get stim shots before the second half started.

The playing field was currently full of dancers and entertainers. Directly in front of him was a group of dancers from Imperial Center, who were dressed in black, white, silver, and gray and were leaping and cavorting toward some artistic goal. Eventually, they piled on top of one another in the form of … something.

Luke frowned. What …?

"I think it's supposed to be a scepter," an older man said in front of him to his purple haired companion, "You know, because they represent the Emperor and all."

"Does he even carry a scepter?" the woman asked in a puzzled voice.

"Nah, I don't think so."

Luke didn't think so either. But for one brief moment, his mind's eye played with the image of his father, on his knees, still so tall that the Emperor had to reach up to tap a gaudy scepter against that gargantuan armored form's shoulders. A Sith Lord was like a Dark Knight, right? Maybe there really had been some kind of weird Dark Side ceremony associated with becoming a Sith?

He probably didn't want to know.

Luke let his gaze wander around the crowd near him. Most of those seated within his direct line of sight were Corellian Brothers' supporters. He thought he blended in quite well. He had purchased a hat which had depictions of the Five Brothers (the five major planets which circled around Corel) on the brim. Over his eyes were a pair of solar glasses which were in the shape of Corellian butterflies.

He was willing to admit to himself that he felt rather silly in this get-up, but he also found he didn't mind much. He was blending in, which was the important thing.

In front of him, the Imperial Dancers had left, and now two sentients dressed up as jaggalors were cavorting around doing handstands and backflips, to the appreciative roar of the crowd.

And then they ran off, as the two teams raced back on the field to the clamorous cheering of the crowd.

The second half had begun. Ten minutes into the half, the Corellian Brothers were down to four players while the Thrones still had seven. The referees of the game had made several questionable calls, and the crowd was murmuring angrily. There was no doubt that the refs were under orders to have the Thrones win, and would pay with their livelihoods or their lives if they refused.

"Sir, would you care for some Roonan lemonade?"

Luke turned to look at the vendor, who was wearing an even goofier hat than his own. To Luke's awed amazement, the hat had the small stuffed head of a jaggalor bobbing on the top, and the jaggalor's digital eyes flashed in a thoroughly irritating pattern.

"Is it particularly sweet today? I like it sweet," Luke responded.

"Yes, it's been specially sweetened with Yegger sugar. You'll enjoy it, sir. 5 credits, sir."

Luke nodded and handed over a credit chip and underneath that, the data code cylinder.

This was his contact. He knew that partly because he had sensed the man's careful approach, and partly because of the stupid code phrases.

Actually, he preferred his lemonade quite sour, but no one had asked _him_ what he wanted before coming up with the code phrases.

"Thank you, sir," the man said with a courteous bob, and began moving up the row, calling out his wares as he went.

Luke relaxed slightly. His job was done, and now he could wait for the end of the game. He would leave the stadium along with the crowd, drift toward one of the commercial exit ships, and get off this planet and back to the Alliance.

He briefly focused back in on the game. It looked like it would end soon, as the Brothers only had two players left and the Thrones had five.

Luke took a sip of the lemonade, winced slightly at the excessive sweetness, and leaned back.

And then he felt like the nefarious members of Rogue Squadron had thrown him into Hoth's snowdrifts again, as they had been prone to do during their sojourn on that blasted planet. His blood suddenly felt like ice, and his brain was clouded with cold darkness.

His head, as if controlled by a puppeteer, turned to his left. Through one of the main entrances of the stadium, flanked by at least a dozen stormtroopers, strode the sinister figure of Darth Vader, the Dark Lord of the Sith.

" _Dolpa dopo me goola_ ," Luke muttered softly to himself in Huttese.

 _Author Note: I threw together some Huttese phrases from Wookieepedia in an attempt to come up with a reasonable facsimile for "I have a bad feeling about this." Which is what Luke is saying at the end._


	4. Chapter 4

_The Corellian Brothers Shockball Stadium_

 _Coronet_

 _Corellia_

Luke froze. Why was Father here? It seemed a most peculiar place for a Sith Lord to show up. And why was Luke thinking of him as 'Father' as opposed to 'Vader'? They were enemies, not family. Right? Was the fact that Luke was thinking of him as his father a sign of internal weakness? Was Luke yielding to intense father hunger, as an irritating psychologist had told his worried guardians after he drew a picture of a slew of rancors and Krayt dragons demolishing his primary school in Tosche Station when he was but a child of 8? And why was he cogitating on any of this when his fath – when Vader was probably looking for him right now?

At that moment, something strong, powerful, determined, and annoyingly obsessive latched onto Luke's consciousness. Luke flailed in the Force and managed to knock it away, but it was too late. His father had found him. Luke saw the giant cyborg turn his helmeted head directly toward him. They were separated by half a stadium and he must be but a small green and blue dot in a sea of green and blue dots, but still – Vader knew the direction and even roughly the distance between them now.

Luke had to get out of here.

Even as he considered his twelve most likely escape routes, even as the young Jedi hunched down slightly in a pathetic attempt to escape notice, Vader gestured to his stormtroopers, lit his lightsaber, and began striding toward him.

Luke's blood ran even colder. The troopers probably had their weapons set for stun, but Vader's lightsaber could do major damage, as Luke's prosthetic attested. And while Vader would probably prefer to do relatively little harm to _him_ , the Dark Lord would have no compunction about injuring or even killing innocent spectators.

And the stands were jammed with people with nowhere to go if a firefight or lightsaber fight broke out. Luke had a brief, horrifying image of a dangerous stampede of fearful fans and realized he had to do something besides try to slip away. Vader would pursue him with vigor with little regard for the consequences to the crowd.

Another little piece of data about shockball popped into his mind from the conversations on the _Angel Wasp_. He knew what to do.

Suddenly certain of his path, Luke turned toward the playing field, held out his hand, focusing all his power and attention on the action in the field below him.

Corellian Brothers' Center Kip Zuton knew that the game was nearly over. There were but two of his team still conscious, he and his brother Zip, and five Imperial Thrones were shifting into their classic pincer movement. Zuton had the ball now, but even if he managed to take down one of the Thrones, another would probably successfully snatch the ball and take him or Zip out. And with one player against four, the odds would be essentially impossible to overcome.

But Kip would fight to the end. He was a shockball warrior, and he would not give up until he was unconscious, in spite of the Thrones' amazing players, in spite of the refs clearly favoring the other team.

Kip gathered himself, sidled to his left, leaped to his right, then flung the shockball into the side of the Thrones' right forward guard.

Direct hit! The guard went down, and then to Kip's total astonishment, the ball took an odd bounce and hit the Throne to Kip's left.

And then it took another odd bounce ...

/-

 _In the transmission booth in the stadium_

Lash Unton was screaming into his transmitter.

"And the ball has taken out two Thrones players, quite a lucky bounce there ... I can't believe it, it's another lucky bounce and another player is down on the Thrones team ..."

 _/_

 _The Millennium Falcon_

Han Solo was screaming.

"Chewie, Chewie, look at this. I don't believe it! Another player, that's four! And another bounce ... Chewie, it's ... it's ... it's IT'S A PENTASHOCK! They are all down! It's a miracle!"

Leia Organa, her eyes on the holoscreen, had turned pale.

"Luke!"

/-

 _Transmission Booth_

 _The Corellian Brothers Shockball Stadium_

Lash Unton was gasping like a beeched burra fish, "It's ... it's ... I can't believe it! I can't! All five Thrones players have been knocked out in one crazy series of bounces of the shockball! The final score, the final score is 15 to 14! The Corellian Brothers have won the shockball championship. I repeat, they have won! And the Brothers' fans are running into the field. Kip and Zip Zuton have carried their team to victory!"

/

 _The Stadium_

Luke Skywalker stood up and carefully lifted his flesh hand to his head. With a regal toss, he threw his silly Brothers' cap and solar glasses on the seat (Aunt Beru had lectured him frequently about littering) and strode directly toward his father, his unlit lightsaber in his prosthetic hand. The way between them was clear now, with the majority of the Brothers' fans surging down into the field to celebrate, as was customary for the winning team when a shockball game had come to an end.

/

Darth Vader stared incredulously as the sea of individuals melted out of his way, allowing him a path toward the vibrant light in the Force that was his son. He had barely noticed what was happening on the field, but he even through his focused attention on Luke, he could sense stunned incredulity from all fans, though some of it was joyful and some enraged.

A slight form was approaching, and with his augmented eyes Vader recognized Luke, striding toward him with the hilt of a lightsaber in his hand. As the boy approached, the saber lit up with a vibrant green blade.

Exactly as Vader had seen in his vision. For a long moment, he allowed himself to relish the image of his son. Luke looked older, stronger, more mature. Determined. He was dressed in garments of dark blue and green which were, Vader realized, the colors of the Brothers shockball team.

But the colors suited the boy. Long ago Padme had worn a dress with those colors ...

The Sith Lord opened his mouth, hesitated, then said, "Skywalker."

The boy was close enough now for Vader to see the boy's raised eyebrows, " _Father._ "

90% of Vader's consciousness suddenly glowed wildly with joy. Father. Luke had accepted the truth!

The other 10% of his consciousness had been wrestling with what was going on around them, and he found himself suddenly extremely surprised.

"You used the Force to cheat on a shockball game?" he demanded incredulously.

Luke looked startled, then slightly defiant, "It was better than the crowd getting panicked and trampling each other."

Vader allowed himself a stab of disappointment. He had hoped that Luke's odd use of the Force would be a sign that his son was drifting toward the Dark Side but no, even his cheating was quite noble.

He suddenly thought of something amusing; this loss would cause humiliations galore for Emperor Palpatine, who always coerced his political enemies to bet large sums of money that the Thrones would lose; bets that gambling operations eagerly took.

"There is no escape," he intoned gravely, even as his stormtroopers began fanning around to surround the boy, "Surrender now."

Luke shook his head, even as he raised his lightsaber, "I don't think so, Father. Let's fight."

And with that, the battle was joined between father and son.

/-

 _Transmission Booth_

Lash Unton was weeping now with joy, and his voice was thick and shaky, "This is a day I never thought would come. I just can't believe it. The Brothers have won, they've won!"

At this point, an aide who had been trying to get his attention for 30 seconds jabbed him sharply in the back, causing him to yelp in indignant astonishment. The aide, frowning hideously, pointed at a side terminal.

Unton's jaw dropped open. The small part of his brain that was still rational took off screaming and hid somewhere in his subconscious mind.

"Ladies and Gentlebeings, we have ... we have a fight that has broken out near the southern end of the stadium. Is that ... is that ... Lord Darth Vader?"

/-

 _The Millennium Falcon_

Han and Chewie were dancing what Leia could only assume was some kind of esoteric Corellian, or Kashyyyk, victory dance. Or perhaps, given how the two kept clumsily bumping into each other, it was a combination of _two_ dances.

Leia was too distracted and distressed to untangle it in her mind.

"Han! _Han Solo_! Look!"

Solo turned around, his goofy grin melting away into stunned horror.

"Luke!"

/-

 _The Corellian Brothers Shockball Stadium_

 _Lower Level_

Vendor #552 stood at the edge of a group of very indignant vendors, trying to keep his face stoic, trying to avoid openly shivering in fear. The code cylinder in his inner pocket seemed to burn against his flesh. He was tempted to ditch it in a nearby trash can but he couldn't do that, could he? The data was secret. He couldn't betray the Rebellion that way!

"Aw, come on, Lieutenant," a porcine man in his 50's said in a pleading tone, "You gotta let us out of here! My boss is whipping up Brothers' Championship Winner hats and they'll be ready in 30 minutes. I gotta get out of here and back, I gotta. Please ..."

The lieutenant in question looked harassed and anxious, "I'm sorry, Stu, I am, but I've got orders. We've got a major security issue on Level 2 over on the south side ..."

There was a pause as the officer lifted a hand to press it against his ear.

"Yes, sir," he said into a comlink, "I understand, sir. Yes, we'll cordon that section of the stadium off immediately."

He glanced up now, "Ok, you all, you can leave if you want but you probably won't be able to get back in, you got that?"

There were murmurs and then 'Stu' spoke, "Better out than in, I say. There'll be lots of people wanting to buy hats on the streets. Thanks, Lieutenant."

The officer was busy giving orders to the troopers standing in front of them, and they all marched off.

Vendor #552 heaved a soft sigh of relief and quickly exited the stadium in the scrum of other enthusiastic vendors.

/-

 _Main level of the stadium_

Luke lashed out with his foot and succeeded in kicking his father in the chest. The Dark Lord stumbled back to the floor in surprise.

There was a trill of warning in the Force, and Luke flipped a few meters up onto a platform extending out toward the field. The stun bolt from one of the stormtroopers supporting the Dark Lord barely missed him.

The platform had presumably been set aside for very rich important people, because there were 10 or 12 exotically dressed individuals sitting and standing, holding glasses no doubt filled with expensive liquor. On one side was a long table containing a lavish spread of ornate foods, including an elaborate cake which, Luke noticed distractedly, was decorated in Imperial Thrones' colors. Guess these people weren't too pleased with how the game had ended.

The elaborately robed and coifed man nearest to Luke stared at him with the indignant astonishment of an Imperial courtier confronted with a vine snake in his refresher.

"Do you have a ticket for this section?" he demanded of Luke imperiously.

Luke blinked in astonishment, "Um, definitely not. You might want to move back a little ..."

A sudden thump behind him heralded the arrival of his father, whose heavy form caused the platform to shake slightly.

Amid the screams of dismay from the rich fans, Vader extended his saber toward Luke and took a menacing step forward.

"Obi-Wan has taught you well," he stated coldly in an attempt to cover up his embarrassment at having been kicked on his backside by his son.

"Actually, he didn't have a chance to do much at all," Luke replied calmly, even as he exchanged a few more blows with Vader, "What with you chopping him in half and all."

There were more muffled shrieks from the rich fans, most of whom didn't apparently have the sense of a newborn aak. To Luke's dismay, most were still in the room, apparently determined to watch this duel unfold. And behind them all, two men with holocams were lurking with the obvious intention of catching this entire affair on digital media.

Idiots.

"Then you are even more gifted than I imagined," Vader rumbled. How had the boy learned to fight so well without additional training?

"Master Yoda was an excellent teacher," Luke shot back, "In spite of his peculiar grammatical structure."

Wrath made Vader look red. Or maybe it was his mask.

"Yoda!"

"And to be honest, I learned a lot from you at Bespin," Luke added, gesturing with his left hand toward the table.

In an instant, the entire fluffy cake lifted up and hurled toward Vader.

("My cake!" shrieked a man in a tall gray hat who was cowering in the corner.)

The Dark Lord flung out with the Force to create a shield, with the result that the cake obliterated in mid air, its frosting and cake chunks scattering about the room to impinge on the hapless guests. The screaming and howling of the observers increased, even as Luke began pelting his father with tangoo melons from a bowl.

 _/_

 _The Millennium Falcon_

"Food fight, food fight! Go Kid go!" Han screamed,

Leia's hand was over her mouth, "Oh Luke!"

Her comlink signaled, and she retreated a few feet to get away from the cacophony of noise being generated by her love and his first mate.

"Yes, General Rieekan," she panted with her eyes on the holoscreen, "Yes, we're seeing it all. I have to assume that our agents on Corellia will know to keep their heads down. Yes, I know, General!"

/

 _The Stadium_

With a snarl, Vader picked up the entire food table and tossed it toward the boy, who nimbly avoided it.

The floor was now a sticky mess of fruits and meats and chunks of cake, making it a treacherous surface for fighting.

Again, the two closed and the lightsabers, green and red, clashed furiously. In spite of the Dark Lord's greater reach, the two were very evenly matched.

Luke allowed himself to be pushed back toward the balcony edge, fearful that if the fight got too close to one of the foolish observers, one of them would be hurt or killed.

Below the duelists, one of Vader's elite stormtroopers leaped onto a movable platform which held a large holocam. He successfully raised the platform as high as it would go, aimed at Luke Skywalker, waited for the opportune moment, and fired.

Luke, completely focused on his father's aggressive blows, missed the warning from the Force. The stun bolt hit him on the back just as he was retreating toward the balcony railing. Without a sound, the boy was knocked off the balcony and fell 5 meters to the ground below.

/

 _Millennium Falcon_

"Luke, oh Luke!" Leia cried.

Han, struck dumb with dismay, threw his arms around her in an attempt to comfort her.

/-

 _The Stadium_

And Darth Vader felt a surprising surge of terror in his own heart. Without so much a glance at the Thrones' fans yammering in astonishment, he leaped over the balcony edge and rushed to the side of his son, who lay silent and still on the stadium floor.

"Get a med pod here immediately," he snarled to a nearby trooper.

He dropped down on one knee, sending out an anxious probe with the Force even as he ran his prosthetic hands over the boy's head and body, searching for injuries.

No gushing fluids, good respiratory rate, good heartbeat, no bones sticking through the skin - maybe a few broken ribs.

He heaved a soft sigh of relief.

Luke would be fine.

"Get me some binders!" he snapped to the slightly bewildered aide hovering behind him.

 _Author Note: Thanks for those of you reading and following and reviewing. And many thanks to my wonderful editor, my husband! Keep in mind this is crack fic so it isn't supposed to make all the sense in the world, but I will address why Luke attacked his father. He hoped the duel would be public enough that word would get back to the Alliance that he had been spotted, and he also hoped to draw attention toward himself so that the Rebel agent could escape the stadium._


	5. Chapter 5

_The Corellian Brothers Shockball Stadium_

 _Suite 4 (The 'Jewel of Zenda' suite)_

 _20 minutes later_

Vader hovered anxiously as an Imperial medic carefully scanned the unconscious figure of Luke Skywalker. The youth was lying on a reclined bed which had been hurriedly located and moved into this extremely opulent suite which overlooked the shockball field.

The Dark Lord had commandeered these rooms, which had an impressive view of the field; even now, the playing area was overrun with enthusiastic Brothers' fans, interspersed with enraged Thrones' fans who were indulging in some pushing and shoving in reaction to their beloved team's staggering loss. Vader was indifferent; the security forces were adequate for dealing with such minor issues, and the Sith was certain the Luke's contact, whoever he was, was long gone.

He was certain there was indeed a Rebel operation involved in his son's attendance of this game; in all his galactic stalking of his son, he'd never caught a wisp of interest in shockball. Swoop racing, yes. Bantha riding, yes. The boy had even fought a beast in an arena on Nar Shaddaa, the smuggler's moon, though not willingly. Vader ground his damaged teeth; to think that that slimy Grakkus had touched his son still enraged him, though the Hutt had paid for his crimes.

But shockball? No. Therefore, this was some kind of foolish and risky Rebel operation. But Vader didn't care. Luke was in his hands, finally, and he was even in one piece (this time.) The Rebel operative, whoever he was, had his blessing to continue his pointless mission, just so long as he didn't mount an idiotic rescue attempt to free Skywalker.

And thinking of that ... the Dark Lord sent a quick message to his security team, ordering them to augment troop protection of this suite.

The medic straightened and nodded courteously, "The prisoner has two cracked ribs and a few minor contusions, but there are no serious injuries. He had not sustained any head trauma. I have treated the ribs, and they should be back to normal strength within two days."

"Good work," Vader rumbled. "You may go."

He glanced at the medic as he left the room, making sure that the door locked behind the man.

When he turned back toward the bed, Luke's eyes were opened and gazing at him. The youth sat up carefully, groaned, lifted his manacled hands to his face, and muttered, "I really _really really_ hate being stunned."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't have attacked me," Vader responded drily.

Luke lowered his hands and frowned, "Yeah, sorry about that."

Vader blinked, "What?"

"It's crass, attacking my own father. Aunt Beru would have said, and she'd be right, that was very ill mannered. I mean, obviously I attacked you at Bespin, but I didn't know you were my father, so I think I get a free pass on that one. But this time, yeah ..."

Again, the boy lifted his hands to scrub his face, "She would have been really disappointed in me."

"I'm certain your ... ah ... aunt would have understood the rather difficult circumstances," Vader said in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

And then wondered why he was being reassuring.

A glowing look rewarded him, which made his words seem worth it, "Do you think so? It's true I wasn't really trying to hurt you, not that I probably could have anyway, I mean, but I was just trying to keep the people away from us, and kind of keep you busy. I didn't want those bonehead stormtroopers shooting around wildly and causing a panic. You know?"

"You fought well, my son," Vader replied, vaguely surprised that Luke hadn't been trying to harm him. But the truth of the boy's words rang in the Force.

(What would have happened if Luke had been genuinely aggressive? The child was _good_.)

Luke blushed slightly, "Thanks."

Vader, who sensed this conversation getting emotionally out of hand, looked down at the boy's lightsaber, which he had been clutching for the last 20 minutes.

"I see you have constructed a new lightsaber."

"Uh, yeah. I hope you have some kind of trophy room or something for the lightsabers of Jedi you kill. Maybe you could put it in a glass case or something? It would kind of a pity if you handed it over to your chef to chop vegetables with. It took _so_ long to make it. Oy."

His father shook his head incredulously, "I anticipate returning it to you in time, my son."

The blue eyes narrowed, "Forget it. I'm not turning to the Dark Side. And I think ..."

Here the child looked shy, "I would like it if you kept it as a remembrance of me. Way better than my shrunken head or scalp or something. That's just nasty. Just one of the reasons I did not like Boba Fett. Those scalps hanging from his belt were seriously disgusting."

Vader shuddered slightly as the unwanted picture of Luke's shriveled head flitted into his mind, and firmly forced the conversation in yet another direction. He turned the lightsaber on and admired the green, shimmering blade, "Your skills are complete. Indeed, you are powerful, as the Emperor has foreseen."

Luke looked startled, "Ah, you talk about me with him? That's unnerving."

Vader lifted concealed eyebrows, "Of course we do. You are my son, and a powerful Force sensitive. Naturally he's interested in your progress. More to the point, I will be escorting you to him shortly. He will show you the true nature of the Force. He is your master now."

Luke's expression turned truculent, "Not happening, Father. I would have thought my suicidal leap into a chasm on Bespin would have clearly told you that my answer is no no no no no no no. The Dark Side stinks. I'm not turning."

His father took a few hasty steps toward him, "You do not understand the power of the Dark Side, Luke. The power to control events and people, to make the galaxy as you want it to be ..."

There was a sudden annoying trill of his comlink, and Vader answered it angrily, "I gave orders that I was not to be disturbed!"

"My Lord," the voice was shaky but determined, "We have a top level incoming holomessage from a secret location in the Endor system. The individual insists on speaking to you."

Vader almost swore aloud. Sidious. It had to be. Of course his Master had probably seen the fight between them, and knew that Skywalker had been captured. But he had hoped for a few more private moments with his son.

However, Palpatine was probably quite angry about the end of that shockball game; even the capture of the slippery Skywalker might not mitigate the old despot's rage about the shockball defeat.

Palpatine was ridiculously invested in his stupid shockball team.

"Very well, patch it through," Vader grunted.

He turned to his son and said firmly, "I advise you to keep quiet, young one."

A large holoscreen, which had previously been showing close-up images of the game, flickered to life. Vader waited patiently, prepared to bow before his master.

Instead, to his complete astonishment, the face of Coordinator Tontin, the organizer of the Emperor's tournament party on the Death Star, filled the screen.

"Lord Vader, Lord Vader," the man babbled, his pale face covered with a sheen of sweat.

"What is the meaning of this interruption, Coordinator?" Vader snarled angrily, "I am in the middle of a vital mission ..."

"My Lord," the man squeaked like an ash – rabbit, "My Lord! The Emperor. The Emperor!"

"What about the Emperor?" Vader demanded imperiously, "If his Royal Majesty wishes to speak to me, he can contact me himself ..."

Vader's voice died off as the screen image suddenly changed abruptly.

This time the transmission showed Emperor Palpatine, seated on a lavish throne decorated with Imperial Thrones' banners and balloons. The Emperor himself had apparently decided to celebrate this occasion by setting aside his usual coarseweave cloak in favor of elaborate silver and black synthsilk pajamas, covered with the names and faces of the prominent members of the Thrones' shockball team.

All of this information was absorbed by 5% of the Darth Vader's mental processes; the other 95% was focused on his master's face.

"Master?" he said aloud in a tone which was doubtful even through the vocoder.

"That's the Emperor?" Luke chimed in from behind him, obviously disinterested in his father's excellent advice to keep quiet, "He's old."

"Master, are you all right?" Vader inquired carefully.

"He doesn't look all right," Luke commented thoughtfully, "He looks like, uh, like ..."

Tontin appeared in the image now, kneeling down beside the figure of Palpatine. The elderly Sith was leaning against the back of his throne, his yellow eyes fixed open, a look of complete horror and rage on his countenance.

He most definitely wasn't blinking. Nor did he appear to be breathing.

Vader stretched out into the Force. He had been distracted by his lightsaber duel and then extremely joyful at capturing Luke, too much to notice that ...

"I don't know what happened," Tontin wailed, "When that horrible play occurred, when the last five Thrones were knocked down by one ball _, one ball,_ his Royal Majesty got really angry! He started throwing things around with the ... with the Force. And then a most dreadful expression appeared on his face and he stopped moving. I think, I think ..."

"He's dead," the Dark Lord stated incredulously.

Tontin burst into noisy tears, "What do I do, Lord Vader? He _is_ dead, isn't he? I know I should have brought a med droid to help him but he was so angry I was hiding in a corner watching him and now I think it is too late. I think the Emperor is dead! It's not my fault. It's not ..."

With a flick of the Force, Darth Vader turned off the holoscreen and turned around as if in a trance.

Luke was staring at him with a puzzled expression on his face, "The Emperor is dead?"

Vader stared ahead for a long, long moment.

"Yes," he said, finally.

"Because his team lost a shockball game?" the boy demanded incredulously.

"It would appear so," his father responded in a daze.

The Sith shook himself slightly, "Probably a stroke or an aneurysm. The man has been eating too many desserts and not getting enough exercise. And his temper was growing more erratic with time. Perhaps it was only a matter of time before something like this happened."

For five full minutes, father and son gazed at one another silently, both caught up in their own thoughts.

Luke broke the silence first, "Well, it doesn't make any difference about me joining you, just to be clear. You can be Emperor now, I guess, but I'm not joining the Dark Side and that's final."

Vader looked at him blankly for a long moment before saying, "No, you are not."

Luke frowned, "What?"

"The Emperor told me ... he told me that only together could we turn you to the Dark Side. He's dead. So we can't turn you. I can't, alone anyway. So yes, I suppose, ah, I suppose that's over. That plan. What an idiot."

Luke scowled, "I don't think staying in the Light is idiotic ..."

"Not you, Son, _him_!" Vader interrupted, "To get so invested in the result of a shockball game that he died when his team lost is completely ridiculous."

Luke's face relaxed, "I'm not arguing that with you. It's pretty stupid."

There was another pause and then Vader said slowly, "You killed him."

Luke looked alarmed, "I didn't kill him."

"Yes, you did," his father said, taking a few steps closer, "By cheating on that game! It's amazing, my son. _You_ are amazing. Perhaps ... perhaps you are the Chosen One, not me. Surely only the Chosen One could kill Sidious accidentally by cheating in a shockball game."

"Chosen One?"

"Yes, it's a foolish Jedi prophecy. Or perhaps not so foolish, given today's astounding events. What is the matter?"

The boy was looking distressed.

"I didn't mean to kill him," Luke said cautiously, even nervously. "I mean, I just didn't want anyone in the stadium to get hurt, you know? I ... I don't think you can really blame me for the Emperor keeling over dead."

Vader frowned and stared for a long moment before understanding broke like a sun through thick clouds, "I'm delighted, Son. I've hated that vile old man for more than a decade now. I'm very glad he is dead."

"Oh!"

The boy's face brightened, his eyes glowed, "Well, that's Ok, then, huh?"

The Dark Lord stepped closer still and laid a gentle hand on his son's shoulder, "Indeed, it is."


	6. Chapter 6

_The Corellian Brothers Shockball Stadium_

 _Suite 4 (The 'Jewel of Zenda' suite)_

After a long, fond moment, Darth Vader stepped back from his son.

Sidious was dead. It was truly a glorious day.

Luke, who had been smiling a little, suddenly frowned doubtfully, "So now what? What are you going to do with me?"

Vader gazed, vaguely startled, at the young Jedi. He turned and strode toward the window, clasped his hands behind his back, and stared down at the field below.

What _was_ he going to do with Luke?

For a long, hopeful moment, Darth Vader contemplated Luke's suite on board the _Executor._ He had started preparing it four years ago, when he'd first learned that his son lived. It was large, lavish, and very secure. It boasted a chef droid which had been specially programmed with Tatooine cuisine, a 1/200th scale model of Padme's ship, and a meter long stuffed woolly bantha which doubled as a comfortable pillow in the extremely luxurious bed.

Then reluctantly, even sadly, the Sith discarded the possibility of installing Luke in the suite permanently. Charming or not, it was a prison, and Luke would not take kindly to an indefinite imprisonment. The Dark Lord shuddered just slightly at the thought of his vibrant son generating irritation and frustration through the Force for days and weeks and months on end.

Not that it would likely come to that. Luke had shown himself a master escape artist. He'd probably just get out, commandeer a shuttle, and disappear into hyperspace.

Vader contemplated another scenario: marooning Luke on a safe but distant planet and visiting him at regular intervals. Dagobah, perhaps? It was incredibly remote but had a breathable atmosphere. Not that he'd ever been there himself, but a random probe had noted its existence some months ago along with a complete absence of intelligent life.

And it was very wet, probably appealing to a young man who had spent his childhood on that foul desert planet Tatooine.

But no, again, that wouldn't work. Luke would probably combine a few trees, some space wreckage, and the local wildlife to make a spaceship capable of blasting off said planet.

"They are getting rather upset, aren't they?" Luke commented, breaking into his thoughts. The youth had walked up and stood next to his father, leaning his bound hands against the railing.

Vader focused on the field below. The situation was devolving into a riot, apparently. Even as he watched, a hapless Brother's mascot, dressed up as a jaggalor, was ruthlessly divested of his costume, forcing him to race off the field in his underwear. The enraged Thrones' fans then proceeded to burn the jaggalor costume in effigy.

"Indeed," Vader agreed, "It is absurd to be so invested in a game, but certain individuals have too much time on their hands."

"It's pathetic, really," Luke replied, with a world weary sigh.

Vader stared at the boy – young, vibrant, handsome, full of life, with far more vital interests than shockball.

No, there really was only one good option.

"I will allow you to return to your friends," Vader said heavily, turning towards his son.

Luke's eyes grew wide, even as his father reached out and unlocked the binders, which fell clattering to the floor.

And then, after a moment of hesitation, the Dark Lord, handed Luke his lightsaber.

The boy gazed at him with a strange expression on his face.

"You want me to leave?"

Vader, distracted by his own desolation at parting from his son soon, took a moment to recognize the emotion emanating from his son.

Was that ... disappointment?

"I assumed you would wish to leave, Luke," he responded in a surprised tone, "We have not dealt kindly with one another, after all, and as you said, you refuse to turn to the Dark Side."

The boy's face took on the dejected mien of an orphaned alcopay, "I understand. And thanks, I guess. I'd rather be alive than not. And I can understand you wouldn't want your Rebel son around."

For a long moment, Vader's mouth hung open, and then he spoke more forcefully than was usual, "No! That is not ... that is not the issue, Son."

He turned away, suddenly unable to look at that mournful face, "I hurt you, Luke, and your friends. I assume you would rather not stay with me..."

But now he turned around, "If you are willing to set aside our differences, there is nothing I would enjoy more than spending substantial time with you."

Luke's sad expression vanished, to be replaced by dawning hope, "Really? And you won't ask me to turn to the Dark Side?"

Vader shook his head, "No, I will not ... well, perhaps occasionally I will ask, but I will not insist on it."

He hesitated, then added, "But there will need to be some ground rules in place, Luke. You aren't allowed to attack me, or sabotage the ship, or choke my officers, or spray paint Jedi proverbs on the corridor walls, or prevent my men from fulfilling their duties by engaging in tiresome political discussions."

"That's reasonable," Luke said cheerily. "No problem at all."

The youth looked more serious now, "But really, Father, don't feel like you have to let me stay with you. I assume you are going to become the Emperor? I'm not sure having a Rebel son hanging around with you is exactly what you need. I can go away, if you want ..."

"Silence!" Vader interrupted firmly, then reached out through the Force to assure his son of the strength of his conviction, "Luke, of course I want you with me. You are all that is left of my beloved wife, and you are my only child."

There was an odd flicker in the Force at that statement, and then the Dark Lord of the Sith felt as if a giant, cold wave had crashed into his consciousness.

He fell over on the floor.

/-

 _A few minutes later..._

Vader woke up with a crushing headache, and to the gentle voice of his son, "Father! Father? Are you all right?"

"Urgghhh," he muttered as he sat up cautiously, with Luke providing physical support. The Dark Lord shook his head slightly in a woolly attempt to clear it.

Slowly, with difficulty, he stood up. For a moment, he focused on retaining his balance. Then he briefly checked his circuitry. Everything seemed functional, which was a relief as his suit didn't always take kindly to those rare occasions when he crashed over like a felled wroshyr tree.

Then he contemplated, with pleasure, that Luke hadn't left while he had the opportunity. It seemed his son really did want to stay with him. There was a glow of joy at this realization, followed by bewilderment.

"That was an odd experience," Vader murmured aloud, "Extremely peculiar."

What had he said just before he abruptly lost consciousness? Something about ...

A brief probe with the Force revealed that Luke was anxiously hiding something.

The Sith cycled through three breathing rotations and focused a stern eye on his son, "What is it, Luke?"

Luke looked guilty and startled, "Um, what?"

"The Force reacted strongly to my last statement. Why is that?"

Silence.

The armored giant stepped forward and placed firm hands on his son's shoulders, "Luke, I will find out through the Force. You might as well tell me."

The youth looked down at the floor, then up at his father's mask, "You said that I am your only child."

Vader blinked, "Yes, of course."

He suddenly felt defensive, "I was married to your mother, Luke, and she was my only, ah, partner. I assure you that I don't have miscellaneous progeny scattered throughout the galaxy."

Luke hesitated, then said, "I, um, might have a twin."

Vader froze, "What?"

"In fact, I do, actually. Have a twin. A sister, to be exact."

Vader took a few steps back, his mind whirling incredulously. A daughter. He had a daughter ...

"Does she have dark hair? And dark eyes?"

Luke blinked in surprise, "Yes ..."

"Is she short?"

"Yes ..."

"With long, flowing tresses?"

The boy's mouth drooped open a bit, "When it's down. I mean, usually she wears her hair up..."

"Just like my Angel ..." the Dark Lord's voice was reverent.

He turned impulsively to his son, "Luke, this is truly the best day of my life. You are the greatest gift I could hope for, and to find out you have a sister! That I have a daughter!"

He smiled broadly behind the mask, filled with wondrous joy, "What is her name?"

Luke looked nervous, "Leia Organa."

There was a very, very long pause.

"Well, that stinks," said Vader gloomily.


	7. Chapter 7

_The_ Executor

 _Main Docking Bay_

 _In orbit around Corellia_

 _6 hours later_

Admiral Firmus Piett pulled himself straight as the shuttle ramp lowered, as the familiar inhalations and exhalations smote his eardrums.

He certainly hadn't _expected_ to see (cope with) Lord Vader today. The _Executor_ , with Piett in command, had been innocently in orbit around the nearby planet of Exodeen. Work crews on the planet's surface were vigorously harvesting the local pta fruit, preparatory to having it shipped to various worlds for the production of potent alcoholic beverages for the benefit of the galaxy's elite.

The _Executor_ was providing security for the crews and transport ships to protect them from pirates, while also working on a minor but pernicious shielding issue.

It was a relaxing task - so relaxing, in fact, that Piett had given himself the evening off so that he and other high ranking officers could watch the Championship shockball game in the officer's mess.

Then came the shockball heard round the galaxy, which resulted in the Imperial Thrones losing. And then, even as Piett sought to drag his shocked jaw off the floor, the holocams had caught Darth Vader fighting, yes, fighting, with a short slight figure clad in blue and green, and carrying a matching green lightsaber.

Luke Skywalker.

And _then_ , there was a food fight, followed by the evil Skywalker (thankfully) being stunned. Soon after, Piett had received an emergency transmission ordering the _Executor_ to Corellia as quickly as possible.

So here he was, standing in the docking bay, waiting for his lord to descend. On one hand, Piett was vaguely morose because he liked commanding the _Executor_ himself. On the other hand, he was relieved that Lord Vader should be in a reasonably decent mood.

At last, _at last_ , the slippery sand rat was in custody. Luke Skywalker, who had haunted his days and nights and meal times and bath times. It was incredible that someone so young and visually unimposing could cause such an enormous amount of trouble.

Admiral Piett was very very glad that this epoch of Imperial history was over, the search for Luke Skywalker. He looked forward to the boy being dragged in chains into the highest security cell on board this ship, there to wait for interrogation and death at Lord Vader's leisure.

The heavy tramp of feet heralded the arrival of Lord Vader, and Piett pulled himself even stiffer.

"So she loathes you to the very depths of her being," an unfamiliar voice commented. "Not to be rude, but so do thousands, probably tens of thousands, of other beings in the galaxy."

Piett looked up in bewilderment, and then nearly fainted from shock.

As expected, Darth Vader was here, but trailing slightly behind him was the slight figure of ... of ... of Luke Skywalker.

The youth had changed into a black outfit and, for reasons that were not remotely clear to Piett, was apparently carrying his deadly lightsaber. And where were the binders? The shock collar? The giant net? The ball and chain?

Vader stepped off the ramp and onto the docking bay floor. After a slight nod of acknowledgement to his admiral, he turned to face the young Rebel.

"None of those other beings is Padme's daughter," the bass voice intoned oddly.

Oddly because Piett had survived for a very long time by reading Darth Vader far better than most people. This tone was downright weird. Vader sounded ... sad? Even despairing.

The boy, whose face was surprisingly gentle, said gravely, "She's a good person, you know. If you show you are willing to make changes ..."

"It is hopeless," Vader interrupted him, and then turned to Piett.

The admiral was fighting hard to maintain a semblance of calm in the middle of this thoroughly bizarre conversation.

"Admiral, when can the _Executor_ depart for Endor?"

"My lord," Piett responded carefully, "We were in the middle of a shielding test at the time of your urgent signal to proceed post haste to Corellia. I would prefer to complete certain analyses before going into hyperspace for the longer journey to Endor."

Vader tilted his head slightly, "How long will the testing require, Admiral?"

"I believe we will have completed our analyses in three hours, my lord."

"Very well," the Sith responded with remarkable calm. "Come with us, Admiral."

Piett gestured for the stormtroopers standing at attention to go away, then followed the unlikely pair into the private elevator which led to Vader's quarters.

Once inside the capsule carrying them upwards, the admiral shrank against the wall and tried to be as invisible as possible as the conversation started up again.

"So it really isn't all about you, you know," Skywalker said in what could only be described as a reprimanding tone. "Just because you think she won't respond well doesn't mean you can't do the right thing."

"And what is the right thing, from your perspective?" Vader replied wearily.

"Oh, I don't know. Don't be a raving psychopath. Drop the enormous bounties on us. Work on peace. That kind of thing."

There was a long pause, while Piett focused on breathing regularly. Why ... _how_... was Skywalker still in one piece?

"She seemed ... attached, to the smuggler," Vader suddenly intoned solemnly.

"As in, in love? Yes, she's in love with Solo."

"And I essentially killed him by carbon freezing him and delivering him to Boba Fett. Yet another reason that any kind of reconciliation is impossible."

"What do you take us for? We rescued him a couple of weeks ago!"

"You retrieved Solo from the Hutt? Remarkable. I would not have presumed the Alliance had sufficient funds for such an endeavor."

"Oh, I tried to negotiate, and he refused. He dropped me in to be eaten by his pet rancor, and I killed it. Then he tried to throw us to the Sarlacc, which is this ugly creature with a big toothy mouth and tentacles which is buried in the sand in the desert ..."

"I am familiar with the Sarlacc."

"Really? That's kind of a Tatooine thing, as far as I know; most people don't know about it. Anyway, I broke free and jumped from a sand skiff to Jabba's sail barge and started cutting people down. And Leia. Leia! She grabbed a chain and threw it around Jabba's neck and strangled him! Our R2 unit took this great holo of Jabba, dead, with his big fat tongue sticking out. Han has that holo permanently installed on the Falcon's cabin wall."

The elevator door opened now, and Vader and Skywalker exited and turned right, with Piett following shakily.

"I am pleased the smuggler lives, for her sake. Nevertheless, the political situation is fraught with difficulty. I suspect politics is not your preferred prevue ..."

"You've got that right ..."

"But she will certainly understand the complications, even as her mother did before her. Even if I do reach out, why should she trust me?"

"She won't. But she does trust me. Let me talk to her."

The two had stopped now in front of a door, a rather mysterious door, the one down the corridor from the Dark Lord's private suite.

Piett kept his gaze rigidly ahead, fixed on his Lord's left shoulder panel. What _was_ this?

To his unnerved surprise, Skywalker suddenly turned and looked directly at him.

"Admiral? I don't believe we've been formally introduced. I'm Commander Luke Skywalker."

Piett's eyes widened in horror, and he shot a worried glance at Vader. The Dark Lord was standing in a pose which bespoke, to Piett's experienced eye, that the Sith was deep in thought.

"I know who you are, Skywalker," he finally grated out.

The youth actually chuckled, "And I gather that I am not one of your favorite people."

To his surprise, Piett actually found himself angry, "You destroyed the Death Star with more than a million men on board, Skywalker."

The young face grew grave, "And the Death Star destroyed billions on Alderaan, Admiral, and was preparing to destroy billions more on other worlds."

"They were traitors," Piett began passionately, only to stop talking when Vader abruptly moved forward and placed a gentle hand on Skywalker's shoulder.

What?

"No political arguments, young one," he said firmly but not angrily.

The boy looked abashed, "My apologies. I'm sorry, Admiral."

Piett found himself taking refuge in an old habit he had developed in his academy days, counting his teeth with his tongue. He found it grounded him in stressful situations.

"Very well, Son, you may contact the princess," Vader suddenly said.

Piett tried to inhale and exhale simultaneously, choked on his own spit, and found himself hacking uncontrollably, doubled over in a paroxysm of shock.

A moment later, a hand was beating on his back rhythmically, even as the young voice spoke soothingly, "Just breathe slowly, Admiral," and then, "Really, Father, you need to break yourself of the habit of just throwing that information abruptly at people."

Piett lifted his head and found himself straightening with the helpful support of ... of Darth Vader's son.

He knew he was probably going to die for collapsing like a Doshian jellyfish in front of his superior, but at the moment he was too flummoxed to really care.

"Skywalker is ... is your son, my Lord?" he gasped out with words that sounded odd to his own ears.

"Indeed," the Dark Lord said, his arms folded. "It should have been totally obvious, given how vigorously I have pursued him."

"I assure you it wasn't obvious to me," Skywalker responded irascibly, removing his supporting arm from Piett's, "And I was the focus. I just thought you were being Sithly and psychotic. I promise you it did not so much as cross my mind that we were directly related!"

"That was Kenobi's doing."

"And yours. Why didn't you send me a hololetter? Or go on Relinka Spetzv's talk show on Imperial Center and announce our relationship to the galaxy? "

"Would you have come to me?"

"Maybe? Even probably? I would have gotten the real story out of Kenobi and proceeded from there ..."

The door slid open to the mystery suite, and Piett sucked in a gasping breath. There had been much speculation, even betting, over this suite – who it was for, what was in it. There was speculation that there were Loth-bats inside, or baby horranths with big spiky teeth, or deathly battle droids, or severed limbs floating in bacta. With Vader, it could be almost _anything._

The door slid open and Piett briefly caught a glimpse of expensive flooring and couches and chairs as Vader and Skywalker entered in.

"Kenobi is dead, young one," Vader commented in a patient voice.

"Yeah, but he appears as a ghost to me sometimes ..."

Piett closed his eyes and leaned against the corridor wall, his head throbbing painfully.

Days like this he wished he'd followed his uncle into the dye trade. Surely spending days being sprayed by purple and green dye would be more manageable.

"I hope these quarters are adequate, Luke?"

The tone was uneasy even through the vocoder.

"They are wonderful, Father. Thank you. Is that ... is that a stuffed woolly bantha. I love it!"

Vader suddenly popped back into the corridor unexpectedly, causing Piett to straighten so quickly that his neck spasmed.

"We will depart for Endor in three hours, Admiral," Vader said absently.

"Yes, my lord."

"Oh, and Admiral?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"The Emperor is dead."

Oh _whatever_.

Firmus Piett went ahead and fainted.

 _Author Note: Thanks for your encouraging reviews! Crack fic is new to me so it helps to know this fic is enjoyable. Thanks again to my husband for his editing and support._


	8. Chapter 8

_Author Note: This chapter has some genuine angst in it, though I hope it is also amusing._

/-

 _The_ Executor

 _In orbit around Endor_

 _6 weeks later_

" _Boop boop treeup!_ " R2D2 commented pointedly.

"I disagree, R2D2," Vader responded firmly. "That is the correct verb tense in that context. There is no doubt."

R2 let loose with an irritable string of beeps, and promptly brought up a grammatical manual on the holoterminal.

"R2 ..."

Vader sensed two familiar presences at the door, and he thankfully waved a hand to let them in, even as he switched off the terminal.

The door slid open, and Leia Organa, clad in green robes, strode in with the tall Corellian Han Solo at her heels.

"Princess," Vader said, remaining in his seat. For one thing, it meant he could look straight in her face (so much like his Angel.) For another, he didn't loom this way, which he hoped she appreciated.

"Lord Vader," she responded, with a regal lift of her chin. "I need you to analyze and make comments on the report with our recommendations for the dismantling of the Death Star, especially its weapons systems."

Vader frowned, his fists tightening, "Are my officers giving you difficulty about anything? I gave orders that your orders, and Luke's as well, were equivalent to my own."

The princess looked totally exasperated, "You really don't have a _clue_ how normal people's minds work, do you? You can't just ... just hunt us across the galaxy and put gigantic prices on our heads and inform the teeming masses that we are evil terrorists, and then turn around one day and inform everyone we're in charge now. Your people need you to vet anything important we come up with. And while I don't like you, I'm aware you are organized, with a remarkable work ethic. So what's the problem here?"

Vader cycled through three breathing cycles before responding, "The _problem_ is that you are Padme's daughter, and Padme was the most brilliant politician of her generation. You have inherited her skills. If you cannot determine the proper course, no one can. And I have the natural political ability of a baby ronto, though I've reluctantly acquired some bureaucratic skills in the last 23 years. The galaxy is privileged to have you, Princess Leia. I find it unseemly that I should question your political acumen in any way."

His daughter rolled her eyes in exasperation, "I'm not perfect, Lord Vader, and there is every reason for you to use that brain of yours to analyze our suggestions – our suggestions, not just mine, but the suggestions of Alliance High Command – before unleashing them on your hapless subordinates. Unlike your former dead master, I'm capable of admitting that I can be at fault."

Vader took a breath out of sync with his respirator, "Your mother ... your mother was as well. It is a noble trait."

Leia groaned aloud, "I think I found our relationship easier when you hated my guts."

There was a pause.

"My apologies, princess," Vader said finally. He didn't know how to relate well to his daughter. Had Padme ever found his fulsome adoration annoying?

A discouraging thought.

She shook her head, "You'll look over the report? I need it back by tomorrow."

"It will be done within two hours," Vader responded, and then held up a hand, "I dislike such reports, and would rather get it over with, so you need not worry that I am ... ah ... hurrying for your sake. I'd prefer to sleep without the horror of wading through pages of a tedious review hanging over my helmet."

"I _totally_ understand that," muttered Solo, speaking for the first time.

Leia shot her love a sharp glance, then nodded, "Very well, I'll be waiting. Han?"

To Vader's surprise, the (former?) pirate waved at her, "Go on, Leia. I want to talk to his lordship for a few minutes."

The (former?) Sith stiffened. What could the Corellian want with him?

Leia Organa tilted up her head, frowned, and gazed into Solo's eyes. Apparently some communication passed between the two, because she nodded, stepped forward toward Vader, and said in a low and menacing tone, "You hurt him? I destroy you. Is that clear?"

Vader actually felt a trickle of fear in the remaining organic vestiges of his kidneys. If looks could kill ...

"I assure you I will not harm Captain Solo."

She nodded, turned on her heel, and marched out.

Best to get this over with.

"What can I do for you, Captain Solo?"

The man straightened out of his usual slouch and placed his hands at his sides in a surprisingly military position.

"I would like your permission to marry your daughter, Lord Vader."

Vader jolted in astonishment.

"What?"

"I am asking your permission to marry Leia."

The cyborg shook his head incredulously, "Why?"

"Because I love her, Lord Vader," Solo said, dropping his stiff demeanor and beginning to stride up and down the floor. "She is the most amazing woman I have ever met – beautiful, courageous, strong, intelligent, hard working ..."

Vader interrupted this glowing tirade, "I agree, Solo. But I am wondering why you are asking me? Leia despises me thoroughly and will marry whom she chooses. Why ask for my blessing, so to speak?"

There was a pause, and then Solo grinned unabashedly, "I might have been dared to do it. By Rogue Squadron."

Vader blinked several times in rapid succession.

Then he thought for a full minute.

Then he shook his head.

"You are very brave, Solo."

"Yeah. So?"

The Dark Lord sighed, "Yes, you have my blessing."

The snarky smile faded away into complete shock, "Really?"

Vader waved an irritable hand, "Certainly. You are brave, devoted to her, willing to protect her to the point of recklessness, and saved her life, as well as my son's, by blasting me off Luke's tail over the Death Star. You are the perfect mate for my high spirited daughter."

Solo's face drooped slightly, "And here I had 400 credits riding on the assumption that you would try to choke me to death."

Vader's right fingers twitched, "I assure you, Captain Solo, that where choking people to death is concerned, I subscribe to the Jedi proverb, 'Do, or do not, there is no try.' If I had decided to choke you, you would be dead. However, since I do not wish to displease my daughter and my son, you are safe enough from me. As for your gambling proclivities, I find them regrettable. I trust that you will not destroy my daughter's financial resources in a search for excitement. It would seem to me that that last four years in the company of my children would be excitement enough."

Solo huffed slightly, "I missed a full year of that in carbonite, Lord Vader."

Vader stilled, then nodded, "Duly noted, Solo. Nevertheless ..."

Solo interrupted, "I won't gamble us into the ground, Lord Vader. I promise you that."

Vader hesitated, then nodded, "Very well. Is there anything further you wish to discuss? I have the princess's report to analyze."

The Corellian sketched a bow and shook his head, "No, I'm good. Uh, thanks for your time."

There was a slight trill from R2D2 and the terminal which Vader had turned off lit up. Solo shot an absent glance at it, stopped, froze, stared, read ...

And turned to Vader, "You're writing a _book_?"

The Dark Lord shot an enraged look at R2D2, the kind of look that would have caused many of his officers to fall over in a faint.

The small droid let loose with a sniggering beep.

"Yes," he grated out, "I am writing a book."

He stared at the pirate, whose mouth was hanging open.

"I experienced an epiphany the day that Palpatine died," Vader continued, "and I wish to share it with the galaxy."

"An epiphany?" Solo asked softly. He looked more alarmed now than when he asked for Leia's hand in marriage.

"Yes."

Vader began striding up and down the room, filled with sudden authorly fervor.

"Do you know what was wrong with Palpatine?"

Solo shook his head slowly, "How many hours do you have?"

The Dark Lord sighed. That was _meant_ to be rhetorical.

"His largest trespass is that he wanted, needed, to control _everything_. There are areas of life in which we can exert some control. But many things are outside of our control. To attempt to control that which we should not is foolish, even, dare I say, wrong, especially when it affects the life and freedom of others.

"A shockball tournament. Why should that matter? But it did to Palpatine. Everything involving himself, had to be, in his mind, the best. His team _must_ win, whatever methods were required. Humans were 'better' than any alien race, because _he_ was human. The absurdity! A child of five would recognize the idiocy of that belief."

Vader found himself, to his surprise, gesticulating dramatically with his prosthetic hands.

"Palpatine wanted, _needed_ , everyone in the galaxy to acknowledge him as master. The Emperor employed numerous individuals whose sole task was to seek out small civilizations which were unaware of Emperor Palpatine, so that such beings could be taught of his glorious majesty. He would call me in and expound for hours about the latest little primitive group which was now bowing before his statue, erected with considerable expense and difficulty in the center of a village."

Vader shook his head now, "And when one small piece of his personal identity cracked, when his shockball team lost a _game_ , he died in a maelstrom of outrage, anguish and fury. A fitting end to a most annoying despot."

Solo stared him incredulously, "For someone you obviously disliked, you sure worked hard for him destroying the galaxy and all."

The former Sith turned on his heel and strode to the transparisteel window, currently facing toward vibrant Endor.

"I, too, am most guilty of attempting to control that which I could not," he responded heavily. "I wished to save my wife's life. That in itself was not ... not an evil desire, but I pledged my life to the Dark Side, to Darth Sidious, I murdered _children_ , in an attempt to save her. And when she died and, I believed, my child with her, I was filled with such rage and anguish that at some level, I wished the galaxy to burn."

He turned now to face the smuggler, "I will take this opportunity to extend an apology to you, Captain Solo. Words are merely words, but I do apologize for my actions on Bespin. I harmed you in many ways."

The man stood, his face blank, his Force sense muted, before the man took a bold step forward, "It's not what you did to me, Lord Vader. I know that I'm scum, from your perspective. But Leia? Luke? I know you didn't know she was your daughter, but you knew Luke was your son. Given your actions these last few weeks, you obviously care about your kids. So how could you torment him by torturing us, batter him, and then cut off his hand!?"

The former Sith felt a wave of anguished self-hatred, and R2 trilled gently, even as the round dome bumped comfortingly against his prosthetic leg.

"You are of course correct, Captain," the deep voice rumbled softly, "I did care about Luke. But I convinced myself that it was best for Luke that he turn to the Dark Side, else Palpatine would find a way to destroy him. The reality is that I desperately wanted Sidious dead, and Luke at my side. I put my own desires above the needs of my son. I bitterly regret that."

The deep voice actually trembled and a look of unease crossed the smuggler's face.

"Have you, ah, considered, you know, some counseling, Lord Vader?"

Vader shook his head, "I do not trust my temper, Captain Solo. If he or she foolishly brought up some of my more difficult experiences, I might well throw the counselor against a wall. So no."

There was a long, complicated series of beeps and trills from R2.

"Ah yes, R2D2 reminds me that he has recently downloaded psychiatric manuals, and will be embarking on a series of counseling sessions with me in the near future. I trust him better than a biological sentient anyway."

"R2?" Solo demanded in bewilderment.

"Indeed," the black gloved hand patted the dome gently, "We have a long history together, and he understands me better than anyone save Luke. Furthermore, he is not especially intimidated by me."

Another boop which sounded, to Solo's ears, peevish.

"Very well, R2, I acknowledge you are not intimidated by me at all."

Solo nodded carefully, "Well, that's, uh, good. Very good. I'll just leave you to your writing."

Vader nodded and turned back to the terminal. R2 snarled at him, and Vader shook his head, "I am not changing that verb tense, R2, and that is final! It is the past imperfect and that is the ..."

 _Beep beep chortle_.

"Yes, I will add that comma if you wish. I am willing to do that."

Solo backed out of the room and into the corridor, where he leaned against the wall and forced every muscle in his body to relax.

Darth Vader an author. What next?


	9. Chapter 9

_Imperial City_

 _Coruscant (formerly Imperial Center)_

 _20 months later_

Relinka Spetzv tossed her flowing mane of hair (today colored in various shades of the rainbow), glanced briefly at the empty studio in front of the stage, then gazed directly at the holocam.

"Ladies and Gentlebeings," she said in her characteristic throaty alto. "I know many of you have been waiting for weeks for today's interview. Today, finally, we have the opportunity to speak with Empress Leia Organa. Unless you've been living under a sandrock, you know about the truly incredible Leia Organa. Adopted daughter of Bail and Breha Organa, tragically lost with Alderaan. The last member of the royal family of Alderaan. Biological daughter of Lord Darth Vader and the regrettably deceased Padme Naberrie Amidala, and twin sister to Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker. Wife of the very dashing Han Solo, and mother to unborn twins, due in less than 3 weeks. And only three months ago, her Royal Highness was crowned the Empress of the Empire at the decree of her father, Lord Vader. Due to pregnancy complications, the Empress has not been in the public eye the last two months, but she has graciously agreed to appear here today. And now, Empress Leia!"

The door slid open and Leia Organa, dark hair piled high in an elaborately braided bun, clad in a white robe like a tent, waddled (there was no other word for it) onto the studio stage, which was set up with two comfortable chairs, soothing lights, and large vases of stalistis scattered artistically on random stands. There was a full minute of fake clapping to simulate a live audience, and then it died away.

"Thank you, Host Spetzv," Leia said with a smile, even as she dubiously eyed the chair set aside for her. It sat rather low for a short woman in the last stages of a twin pregnancy.

Not for the first time, she was thankful for her training in the Force. With the help of that esoteric energy field, she'd be able to achieve verticality after this interview without the help of a crane.

"Your Highness," Relinka said with a mixture of a smile and shocked horror. The resulting expression wasn't good.

"Your Highness," she repeated, "may I say that you look lovely?"

Leia groaned and shifted slightly, "Host Spetzv, I look like a whale-drake, and I feel like one too. These precious babes are a blessing, but I am quite ready to give birth at this point."

Relinka smiled tremulously, "I can understand that, your Highness. And please, call me Relinka."

"And you can call me Leia," the Empress said warmly. She and Vader had argued about her familiarity with the masses, as he put it. Given how grumpy and irritable and distant both Palpatine and Vader had been, she felt being friendly and approachable was the right route.

Relinka apparently didn't think so.

"Oh, I couldn't do that, your Highness," she squeaked, "That would not be appropriate.

"As you wish."

"So," Spetzv said, pulling herself together, "this is of course the week after your father's memoir was published, _My Life as a Psychotic Sith Lord: 14 Ways I Nearly Broke the Galaxy_. I have to say, your Highness, that I found your father's book truly compelling. I read it into the wee hours of the night and missed my beauty sleep, because I just couldn't wait to finish it!"

Leia took a deep breath, "Well, that's ... that's good, Relinka. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I know Lord Vader worked hard on it."

"So you refer to your father as Lord Vader?"

"Yes, I do," the Empress responded firmly, "My true father will always be Bail Organa. In honor of his memory, I choose to refer to my biological sire as Lord Vader."

"Now your Highness," Relinka said as she assumed a very serious look, "a substantial portion of Lord Vader's book deals with his, and your, very complicated family situation. Your fath ... Lord Vader is very open about his brutal treatment of you, your brother, your mother, and your husband. Please tell me, how are you doing as a family now?"

Leia took a deep breath and slowly let it out, "Well, what can I say, Relinka? We have some work to do. Our astromech droid R2D2 is conducting weekly family counseling sessions and we're making good progress. These are not issues that can be dealt with quickly. I am thankful for Lord Vader's willingness to admit his admittedly dire sins against the galaxy in general, and our family in particular. There is still work to be done."

"That is wonderful news," Spetzv responded with what was clearly meant to be an enthusiastic smile, "The galaxy of course hopes that the Royal Family will maintain serenity and unity during this most difficult time."

Leia raised her eyebrows, "Do you consider this time to be most difficult, Relinka? I believe we've made excellent progress in introducing democracy through the reinstatement of the Senate, and working hard to eradicate slavery. The Alderaanian diaspora has been gathering on Delaya. There is still work to be done, but I am pleased at our accomplishments of the last two years."

"Oh yes, your Highness," gushed Relinka nervously, "I was referring to the Reekcat Horde."

"Ah yes," Leia said, frowning slightly, "Yes, I'm afraid they've been quite troublesome."

"Troublesome!" Relinka gasped dramatically, "They've tried to kidnap you! They've threatened your unborn children! I am sure I speak for all loyal citizens when I say I am concerned for your wellbeing."

"Thank you, Relinka," Leia said gravely. "I appreciate your concern. While I naturally disapprove of the Horde's threats toward me and my family, I am more distressed at their terrorist attacks wrought upon the innocents of the galaxy. The Horde may have legitimate concerns with our leadership, but they should leave civilians out of it. The terrorist attacks on Delaya, Tatooine, and Naboo clearly are meant as blows against our government, but it is the civilian victims who have truly suffered. Lord Vader and my brother are vigorously pursuing the Horde at this very moment, and I have high hopes that justice will be meted out to the Horde leadership soon."

"Well, that's very good news, your Highness. Perhaps you don't mind clarifying the situation for our viewers. What exactly is the Reekcat Horde? They are not, I presume, actually reekcats?"

Leia thought Relinka was as confused as any viewer could be.

"No, Relinka, the Horde merely uses 'Reekcat' as its own personal designation, for admittedly unknown reasons. The Horde is a shadowy terrorist organization with unknown leadership and largely unknown goals, though it obviously seeks to discredit our bloodline. Reekcats are small, cute, fuzzy animals."

"Is it true?" and here Relinka lowered her voice dramatically, "that you and your husband came home to your apartment one day in the Imperial Palace and found a dozen reekcat kittens racing around your living area?"

Leia looked startled at this. How quickly crazy rumors spread!

"Ah, no, Relinka, that is not true ..."

To her surprise, tears suddenly filled her eyes, "No, we've had threatening flimsies with reekcat paw prints on them, and even had random and mysterious reekcat drawings painted on the walls of Palace refreshers, but we've not had seen any actual reekcats."

Tears spilled down Leia's cheeks, and she wiped them away in embarrassment.

Spetzv looked horrified, "I'm so sorry, your Highness. I had no desire to distress you in any way."

"No," Leia said, then began sobbing softly. "It's fine. I'm fine. It's just that baby reekcats are so cute! I would love to have some in my apartment. They are so warm and fuzzy with those perky little ears ..."

Relinka actually pushed her chair away slightly, her eyes widening, "You want a reekcat, your Highness?"

Leia forced herself to laugh, and she sat up slightly, "I'm so sorry. Pregnancy hormones. I'm very excited about all infants now, regardless of species. No, I don't want a reekcat kitten. Unfortunately, my husband is allergic to their fur."

"Oh," her host said blankly, then nodded slowly, as if placating a lunatic. "Well, I suppose they are in zoos?"

"Yes, they are," Leia said, determined to retrieve her position as the sensible leader of the known universe. This interview was a bad idea, and she had known it was a bad idea, but Luke had insisted ...

Abruptly, her twin's voice rang through the Force telepathically, " _Showtime, Leia! Get ready!"_

"Well, your Highness," Spetzv said firmly, obviously ready to bring the interview to an end.

And then Relinka stopped, open mouthed, as a large table holding various electronic gear upended itself (scattering expensive modules far and wide), floated rapidly onto the studio's stage, and flipped on its side.

Then, just to add to her confusion, Leia Organa slid off her chair and onto the floor behind the table.

"Better get behind this table, Relinka," Organa suggested.

Relinka shot a horrified look at the two technicians sitting behind transparisteel in an adjacent sound booth. The Empress was clearly insane! What was she supposed to do?

Based on the gaping mouths of the techs, Relinka couldn't expect any help from them.

She turned toward the Empress, prepared to say something soothing, when the two back doors to the studio suddenly flew open. A horde of sentients ran in, all wearing reekcat masks and trailing long tails.

"Death to Empress Leia! Long live the Reekcat Horde!" their leader yelled, even as the Empress firmly grabbed Relinka's ankles and yanked her down.

"We need to stay under cover," the Empress said firmly, pulling a lightsaber out of her voluminous garment.

The air was suddenly filled with blaster bolts and the table, thankfully a thick transparisteel one, shuddered under the impact.

Relinka shrieked loudly in spite of herself. She never had imagined this would be her end, trapped behind a table in her own studio, being attacked by sentients dressed as cats!

"A little to the north," the Empress said, her eyes focused on the ceiling.

"I beg your pardon?" Relinka quavered.

"Not you," Leia said absently, just as a portion of the ceiling broke free and crashed to the floor. An instant later, the enormous figure of Lord Darth Vader dropped to the floor with a thud which shook the stage.

There were shrieks of dismay and confusion from the reekcat costumed attackers, and Leia placed a quick hand on Relinka's shoulder

"Stay down!" she ordered.

The Holonet host nodded with wide eyes, even as the short, very bulbous Empress rolled with surprising grace to her feet, lit her blue lightsaber, and strode into the battle.

Relinka's mouth dropped open in bewildered awe. To think that her sovereign was willing to do battle while heavily pregnant with twins! And look at that lightsaber she was waving around with such control! Even as the Holonet host watched, Leia successfully blocked two blaster shots.

"The Empress is _amazing_ ," Spetzv thought.

"Leia is out of her mind!" Darth Vader thought.

"Leia," he snapped in a far louder tone than normal, "you need to retreat to safety! I will deal with these miscreants and I do not need your help!"

Seconds later, his daughter was behind him, fighting back to back with him. Some part of his brain found room to be faintly amused – they must make a comical pair. He, a two meter, black armored cyborg, she a very short, very pregnant woman.

Mostly, he was worried about her.

" _Your husband will have my head if harm comes to you,"_ he sent to her irritably, " _and I do not require your assistance."_

" _We want some of them alive_ ," Leia sent back even as she deflected a blaster bolt into one of the attacker's legs. He (or she) collapsed to the ground with a groan.

" _Don't worry, Father_ ," she added, " _I'll be fine."_

Through the thickening haze of smoke from blaster impacts, and the yelps of injured assailants, and the buzz of lightsabers, one thought took obsessive control of Darth Vader's mind.

Leia had called him 'Father'.

/-

 _Imperial Government Building_

 _Imperial City_

 _Coruscant_

 _A few minutes later_

"Are you sure Leia is Ok?" Solo demanded as he trotted after his brother-in-law.

Luke glanced at him with that otherworldly look which Han associated with twin Force communication.

"She's fine, Han," Luke assured him. "Father is having fits because she insisted on helping him take on the Reekcat Horde, but they are all down now – most dead, but some alive. If we don't find anything here, I'm sure some of the captives will speak."

Han opened his mouth but Luke spoke before he could say a word, "No torture, Han, I promise you that. You know we don't operate that way. But based on our admittedly limited data, they are probably mercenaries who would be willing to sell their own Dune lizards for sufficient credits."

Solo's brow scrunched up, "Who would want a Dune lizard, Luke?"

"They taste great!" Luke said indignantly, "Especially in a spicy blue milk sauce. My aunt Beru used to make the best Dune lizard stew this side of Mos Eisley."

Han wrinkled his nose in disgust, but before he could say anything, they turned a corner and found ...

"Ah!" Luke said excitedly.

The two guards standing near the door were facing one another, frowning over a holoflimsy in their hands.

"Sorry, dude, an opera about wampas on Hoth just sounds incredibly boring ..." one of them said to the other.

They looked up, startled, as Luke strode forward determinedly.

"Jedi Skywalker?" one said, "I'm sorry, but the Grand Vizier is in an important meeting and gave strict orders not to be disturbed."

"I just bet he did," Han snarled, forcing his way past them. The door was locked, and he stepped to one side and gestured dramatically to his brother-in-law.

Luke quickly sliced a big hole in the door and hopped through it.

On the other side, Imperial Vizier Sate Pestage and Imperial Security Bureau chief Ysanne Isard looked up from behind a large and ornate desk, their eyes wide with amazement, and yes, fear.

"Skywalker!" Isard said with a look of practiced bewilderment, "What can I do for you?"

"You can step from behind the desk _very_ slowly, with your hands up!" Solo snarled angrily. "We tracked the transmission from the Horde leader who attacked Leia a few minutes ago. You two are the brains and the finances behind the Reekcat Horde. You attacked my wife!"

"Consort Solo," Pestage said with a superior smile, "I assure you that neither of us have the slightest idea what you are talking about! We have no prior knowledge of any kind of attack against Her Royal Highness ..."

Solo stepped forward a few more steps, raising his blaster so that it pointed directly at Pestage's chest, "I promise you that you will pay for this, both of you. I'll dangle you in a vat of river eel flavored pudding. I'll tickle your toes until you beg for mercy. I'll ..."

"Han!" Luke interrupted him, his eyes taking on their characteristic faraway look, "Leia just contacted me. She's in labor!"

 _Author Note: One of the delightful characteristics of my pregnancies was bursting into tears over ridiculous things. So I had to have Leia get all emotional about kittens. Kittens are quite awesome._


	10. Chapter 10

_Imperial City Library #4_

 _Imperial City_

 _Coruscant_

Lando Calrissian gazed around at the twelve children sitting in a circle at his feet. They gazed back, some smiling, some with brows furrowed, all with total focus.

He looked back down at the holobook in his hands and began reading again.

" _Luke was weakening, I knew that. But that indomitable spirit won through as he continued to battle, blue lightsaber against my red, as we struggled and fought. Beneath us, the catwalk shook with our blows_. _Around us, the winds howled. Below us stretched a chasm of darkness broken by distant lights._

 _With a careful push, I knocked him to the ground, stood over him, threatened him with death if he did not submit to my will. But with blue eyes blazing, he gathered his flagging strength and fought back, knocking my saber out the way._

 _A moment later, he broke through my defenses. His lightsaber crashed through the armor in my right shoulder, his blade caught my flesh burned long ago in the lava fields of Mustafar. With a roar of pain and rage, I raised my saber and ..."_

"Baron Calrissian!"

Lando stopped, frowned, looked up.

The Twi'lek librarian was standing at the door, lekku twitching in the grips of some strong emotion.

"Yes?" Lando asked, pulling himself with difficulty out of his dramatic reading.

The library appeared to take a few calming breaths, then said with saccharine sweetness, "You have an urgent holocall in my office. Can you please come this way?"

Lando glanced at his comlink, startled. Oh, that's right, he had turned it off.

"Ok," he said, standing up, then looked down at the disappointed faces of his young listeners, "Sorry about that, kids. Another time."

"Aw ... I want to know how it ends!" a Togruta boy with blue montrals complained.

The librarian stepped forward, a muscle in her cheek twitching frenetically, "My assistant will fill in for the Baron now, children."

A red headed human woman in her 30's smiled at the children and said, "How about _The Wondrous Wanderings of the Woolly Bantha Cub_ , children?"

There were cheers of delight from the younger ones, and Calrissian smiled a bit as he stepped out of the library meeting room and into the corridor.

That book was very cute.

His smile faded away at the sight of Twi'lek librarian, whose eyes were now gleaming with rage and disbelief.

"Are you out of your mind, Calrissian?" she demanded, "How could you read _My Life as a Psychotic Sith Lord_ to a group of children under the age of eight?"

Lando frowned in bewilderment, "It's at the top of the best seller list, Madame!"

The Twi'lek actually banged her orange head against the wall punctuating her next 6 words, "IT IS NOT APPROPRIATE FOR CHILDREN, Baron Calrissian!"

The head banging seemed to have vented enough of her anger that she was able to pull herself back into sweet librarian mode. With a deep breath and a fresh smile, she continued, "Do you want those little ones to go to bed tonight thinking that their fathers might possibly chop off their hands? That is not the kind of idea you want to introduce to an impressionable youngling."

Lando blinked, still startled at the normally mellow librarian banging her head on the wall, "Luke and Lord Vader have a wonderful relationship now, so I don't think it is a problem. And that's clear at the end of the book ..."

"You don't know much about children, do you?" the librarian interrupted him, still smiling her librarian smile.

The man lowered his eyes slightly, "No, I don't, really. I just thought it would be exciting for them, you know?"

"Baron," the librarian sighed, "I very much appreciate that you loyally and faithfully come to read to the boys and girls every week. You're one of my best volunteers. But let's stick with more juvenile fare, shall we? The _Exquisite Angels of Iago, the Very Hungry Rancor,_ those are all fine books for children. Leave Lord Vader's book for teens and adults, agreed?"

"Agreed," Lando responded, abashed.

The wild look in her eyes faded, showing he was forgiven, and opened the door to her office, "Your caller is waiting."

The dark skinned man blinked in surprise. He had thought the 'call' was an excuse to get him out of the room so the librarian could yell at him in private.

He clicked the holoterminal on. The image showed Han Solo, in the cockpit of his speeder. The images behind his old friend indicated that Solo was flying far too fast to be safe in the notoriously crazy Imperial City traffic.

"Lando, it's about time you answered!" Solo yelled. "I need you to get to the Palace right now! Leia's in labor!"

Lando blinked.

"Is ... is something wrong?" he demanded worriedly.

"No," Solo began, then yelped indignantly, "Idiot! Get out of my way. No, I think she's Ok but Vader's there and Luke says he's throwing a fit. I need you to come keep him company!"

Lando choked, "You want me to _what_?"

"Keep my father-in-law company!" Solo snapped back, "At least until Luke can get there. He's dealing with a Reekcat Horde issue that can't wait. I am going to be in the delivery room with Leia and Vader needs a friend."

"I am not a friend, Han!" Lando responded with a near howl. "The last time I saw Vader he looked me up and down and told me I was lucky to be alive. He definitely does not like me!"

"He likes you more than most people, Lando," Solo said irritably. "Look, I don't have time for this. You betrayed us at Bespin and I spent close to a year in carbon freeze thanks to you. You are going to do this. Come to the Palace and hang out with Vader until Luke gets there. Got that?"

Lando closed his eyes, wondering to himself what was worse, incensed librarians scolding him or old frenemies calling in favors, took a deep breath, sighed and finally said "All right, Han. I'm coming."

/-

 _Medical Bay #1_

 _Darth Vader's Palace_

 _20 minutes later_

Lando stepped hesitantly into the small room off the main corridor of Medical Bay #1. Security was very tight, with numerous guards, mostly of the large and hulking variety, hovering in various corners and beside doors, all bent on protecting the Empress from holojournalists and enthusiastic assassins and anyone in between.

But Lando had obviously been expected. He had entered the public entrance of the palace to be met by a young, dark haired human woman who had greeted him with a near shriek of delight and quickly guided him into this room.

Based on his initial first glance, this was some kind of waiting room for family members whose loved ones were being medically treated nearby. Which was odd, in Darth Vader's palace. He didn't seem the kind of individual to care about random family members. But he _had_ family members now. So maybe he had ...

Calrissian's hovertrain of thought got derailed as his eyes focused on the gigantic form of Darth Vader, who sat on a large chair facing away from the door and toward the transparisteel window; the view was incredible – Imperial City in all its frenetic glory. Next to the cyborg was R2D2, and the behemoth's left hand was resting on the droid's domed head.

Lando froze, unsure of what to do, only to be startled when the former Sith spoke.

"Calrissian, I am honored that you could join me."

Lando flinched openly at this reminder of Bespin. Gathering all his rapidly dissipating courage, he walked deliberately over to the window and turned directly to face the Dark Lord.

And then his face grew slack. Vader held a bottle in his right hand, and a tube snaked from the bottle into the lower reaches of Vader's mask.

"Uh, what's that?" Lando asked nervously.

Vader gestured slightly with his right hand and said irritably, "Corellian brandy. The best that money can buy. Not that it matters."

The Baron stilled, his mind racing.

"I thought that your mask, you know, had to be sealed or something," he muttered rather absurdly.

There was a growl from the former Dark Lord, which made Lando cringe slightly.

"I built C-3PO when I was a 9 year old slave. I'm entirely capable of refitting my mask so that I can drink alcohol when I wish to."

Calrissian perked up slightly. Perhaps this was an area where he and Vader could discuss a common interest. Until Luke showed up and saved him from this bizarre situation.

"Really? What's your favorite?"

The mask seemed more blank than usual for a long moment, and then Vader said dully, "This is my first drink in more than 25 years. I don't have a favorite."

Vader tilted his head to stare at the bottle, "What if she dies?"

Lando was briefly confused before he realized who the Dark Lord was referring to.

He took a couple of deep breaths and said carefully, "Leia is very strong, Lord Vader. And she has the very best medical care. I'm sure her delivery will go well."

Vader seemed to rock slightly, "Her mother ... her mother was also strong. And she died. She died! In childbirth. What if Leia dies? I can't bear it."

The furniture in the room shook, and Lando came to a sudden conclusion.

The kind of conclusion that would likely get him killed.

"Lord Vader, you shouldn't be drinking alcohol," he said boldly.

The black mask lifted to face Calrissian directly. Lando took a few experimental breaths.

Good, he was still able to inhale necessary oxygen.

"Others do, in times of crisis," Vader finally said in what could be construed, in another sentient, as a whiny tone. In the Dark Lord's bass voice, he sounded merely petulant.

"Other sentients cannot take down a building while in the throes of alcohol induced distress," Lando pointed out.

There was a long pause, and Vader nodded slowly, "You are correct, Calrissian."

The Baron waited with bated breath and a moment later, the tube separated from Vader's mask, then from the bottle. The bottle floated over to Lando.

"Perhaps you would be kind enough to watch over the brandy, Calrissian."

Lando nodded, incredibly relieved. A quick glance at the label made him start in astonishment. Brothers' First! A special brandy commemorating the Brother's Shockball triumph, and specially aged using radiative crystals from one of Corellia's minor moons!

The Baron sank down into a nearby chair, hesitated, then decided to go for it.

"Do you mind if I, uh, have a little?"

"Be my guest," Vader said absently, his posture still gloomy.

Lando glanced around for a cup, saw nothing, and decided to be barbaric.

He lifted the bottle (still more than half full) and took a long swig.

The first sip was like a jolt of lightning. His mouth was a confused maelstrom of potent alcoholic flavors, his esophagus briefly became a lava field. His brain promptly, and ecstatically, killed five million brain cells.

Heavenly.

"I'm a terrible father," Vader pronounced suddenly.

Lando lifted his eyes, considered, took another drink, then nodded, "Yeah, you are. Or were, anyway."

The Dark Lord swung his chair slightly, and the black helmet tilted so that the blank mask faced directly at the former administrator of Cloud City.

The alcohol was affecting Lando's courage, probably in very unreliable ways, because he continued, "I'm just saying it like it is, Lord Vader. Tortured your daughter twice, chopped your son's hand off, carbon froze your now son in law, not to mention providing moral support to that idiot Tarkin when your daughter's planet was blown up. You won't be getting any awards for Father of the Year, for sure."

His brain, which had been off in a corner relishing its alcoholic euphoria, caught up and managed to shut his mouth.

Probably too late, thought Lando gloomily, waiting to be strangled.

After a very long minute, during which Lando kept being surprised he was still breathing, Vader said, "Thank you."

"Uh, huh?" the Baron demanded incoherently.

Vader stood up now, all two meters of him, and moved closer to the window so that his right side was now facing toward Calrissian.

"My son is one of the most forgiving persons in the galaxy. I know he has forgiven me, I know he loves me, in spite of how little I deserve that. He had never berated me or accused me in spite of my myriad sins against him, against our family. My daughter has a more astringent personality, but she is so attached to her twin that she has held back most of her vituperative statements about my character. Solo, too, cares so deeply for both twins that he doesn't care to rock the spacecraft. And my officers and people are afraid of me, of course. Only Artoo is candid about my many transgressions. And now you have been as well. It is true, I am a terrible father, and I would rather be honest about it."

Lando took another long sip of brandy and leaned back in relief. Then his brow wrinkled.

"I would say," he said carefully, "that you _were_ a lousy father, but now you are not."

"It hardly matters, Calrissian. I have wrecked both their lives."

"No," Lando almost slurred the word, then caught himself. "No, you haven't. Because they are ... they are amazing people, Luke and Leia. And Han too, he's amazing too. You can't ruin their lives because they are too strong for that. I mean, that gives you even more power than you've got, you know? And you wanna talk about being a lousy father, Ok, you were lousy. But me, I was a horrible friend too. I sold them out to you and Han was tortured on my watch. I'm just as bad as you are."

Vader turned now, his great head shaking slowly, "I gave you no choice, Calrissian."

Lando found himself shaking the bottle a little, then stopped worriedly. It wouldn't do for any of this golden nectar to spill.

"I always had a choice," he said, and closed his eyes, "always did. Could have said no. Yeah, you'd have killed me, but I could have. Could have warned them, could have tried to flee instead of taking them to that blasted banquet hall. I had options. I convinced myself I was ... doin' it for my people but really just wanted to save my own skin and my money. Yeah, I'm a rotten friend, too ..."

/-

 _Medical suite across the hall_

"You're doing great, sweetheart," Han Solo said, his eyes filled with tears.

"The first baby is crowning, your Highness," the med droid said. "Please wait for the next contraction and push..."

/-

 _Vader's Palace, Main Entrance_

"Knight Skywalker, let me take you up to the medical suite ..."

/

"It's a girl!"

"Shmi ..." Leia said softly, "Dear Shmi."

/-

 _Family medical waiting room_

"She was an angel, Calrissian, an angel," Vader said, "My angel. I never deserved her ..."

The door opened, interrupting his enthusiastic Padme rant.

Luke stepped in, his eyebrows raised high.

"Are you all right, Father?" he asked worriedly. "I was picking up some weird Force vibes."

Lando raised the bottle in his right hand, a bottle which was now almost empty, "We're ... uh ... we're good, Luke. Jusht ... jusht talking about things we regret, you know? Like, you know ..."

"Bespin," Vader finished.

Luke stared incredulously at Calrissian, "Are you drunk, Lando?"

The older man stood up and swayed slightly, "Yep, I am. But ... but your old man ishn't. 'Cause I shaid he shouldn't. He was drinking ... drinking thish brandy and I shaid he shouldn't. So he stopped, gave it to me. I get drunk, I just get shtupid and shometimes shlur. He gets drunk, whole building comes down. Not good!"

Luke nodded carefully, "I agree, Lando. I think you were very noble to drink that brandy. Thank you so much for keeping Father company. But now maybe you should go home."

The Baron nodded, bowed slightly to Vader, bowed slightly to Luke, and walked carefully toward the door, "I'm shure ... shure Leia will be jusht fine."

"She's doing great," Luke said absently, as he signaled for a guard to come. "She's already had one of the babies and the other one is almost born."

"Great news ... great news ..." Lando slurred.

Luke grabbed the guard who had appeared, and said firmly, "See that Baron Calrissian makes it home safely. And do not let him drive."

The man nodded in agreement, and Lando did as well, "I reeeeally shouldn't drive."

Luke clapped his old friend on the shoulder and heard Lando prattling on to the guard as they disappeared down a hallway, " ... Do you like flapjacks? ..."

Luke turned back toward Vader, who was standing in an anxious position near the window.

"Your sister is well, then?"

"She's great, Father, just great. We've been in contact telepathically and I've learned some new words in Shyrriwook, I think. Whatever helps, right? The second baby is just being born now ..."

/-

 _Leia's medical suite._

"It's a boy!" Han said excitedly.

"Bail," Leia said, and leaned back against the bed in relief. Her body was trembling from exhaustion and pain, but she had never, in her entire life, been so happy.

A few minutes later, she and the babies were wrapped up in bed, with her husband on a chair next to her.

The two little faces, both red, both looking vaguely surprised, stared at her. She gazed back, her eyes filled with tears.

"Welcome to the big wide galaxy, little ones," Leia said softly, even as Han wrapped one long arm around her.

 _Author Note: Many thanks to Cywolf10 who gave me the idea of including a bit of Vader's book, starring his dramatic prose. Also, I'm with the librarian – Vader's book, regardless of how well it is or isn't written, is not appropriate for impressionable children. I think I'm going to take a break from this fanfic as I need to get back to finishing up_ the Importance of a Name _. But if I think of more funny chapters, I'll come back to_ Galactic Shockball Championship _. Thanks for reading and following and reviewing, and many thanks to my husband, who is my best friend and editor._


End file.
